


What you need most

by AllTheSnakes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crobby - Freeform, M/M, Protective Bobby Singer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheSnakes/pseuds/AllTheSnakes
Summary: Bobby Singer is back in a house that shouldn't exist, with no memories of how he got there, and suddenly he has under his care a being that usually doesn't need anyone. Just a normal day in his unpredictable life or a brand new scenario?





	1. I take you to have and hold

 

Bobby heard a thump against his front door.

 

Saying something felt wrong about the whole situation was an understatement.

 

He had found himself all of a sudden in his kitchen in Sioux Falls and was still trying to figure out how he got there.

 

Last thing he remembered he was entering Dick Roman’s office in hopes to find useful info on the Leviathans. After that, there was nothing.

 

It meant he was standing in a house that hadn’t existed for weeks and with no memory of anything between the mission with Sam and Dean and the present moment.

 

To add to the list of things that didn’t make sense, Bobby had seen his reflection on the glass of a window and noticed he seemed a couple of years younger than he should be.

 

The noise at the front door made his instincts scream that someone had just dumped a corpse on his front step, what meant that, besides having seemingly random facts to work on, he now was knee-deep in some serious crap.

 

Well, that would add nicely to the checklist for a typical Bobby Singer’s day.

 

‘No rest for the wicked’, the hunter murmured and adjusted his cap, starting for the door, ‘I hope there’s at least some clue on what’s going on’.

 

Bobby approached the door silently and looked through the peephole.

 

Nothing in sight but the yard.

 

It was expected. In his experience, weird things didn’t show, even less explain themselves, at the first try.

 

He pondered on the possibilities.

 

He could look for another point of observation. Maybe the window in his bedroom, on the second floor, would be safe to survey the area before he put his face out.

 

However, someone could be seriously hurt just some steps away.

 

Bobby would not stall things, even if it could be a trap. If someone was waiting for help, it wouldn’t be right to move around the house to find a better angle. It would not be the first time he had to defend himself and intimidate something while rescuing someone.

You don’t survive the life of a hunter if you can't count on a gun behind the door, some training and good reflexes, and that was what he had by his side, now.

 

He picked the shotgun, put his hand on the handle and calculated quickly the possibilities ahead.

 

If there was a body, it was on the ground, close to the door, and that was why there was nothing to see through the peephole.

 

Someone might have dumped it and ran away; in that case, the body was one more problem left on Bobby’s lap, besides all the incongruent data he had been already storing since he ‘appeared’ in his kitchen.

 

However, the noise could be something being _thrown_ heavily against the door – a corpse or anything else – and he could be facing a not totally brainless creature who would be hiding, waiting to attack. In that case, things could prove challenging.

 

Bobby positioned his body and opened the door ajar in a swift movement.

 

The mystery was promptly solved.

 

He had not been able to see anything through the peephole because the source of the sound he heard was a familiar clad-in-black man who was currently supporting himself on the wall beside the door.

 

Bobby stepped outside, looked for any disturbances in the perimeter as quick as possible and, not detecting any close menace, threw the gun back in the house and hurried to access the state of the demon.

 

There was something obviously wrong with the King of Hell.

 

There were no external signs of beating – no wounds nor blood – and no ragged clothes, but his eyes were closed and his head was hanging. His back against the wall suggested he could not stand by himself.

 

Bobby noticed the hands clenching on the man’s sides. It seemed an attempt to control something that must be painful and/or disturbing.

 

The hunter’s brows shot up: something had to be high in satanic levels of gut-wrenching to obliterate the usually annoying self-assured creature in front of him.   

 

Bobby reached out to touch the demon’s shoulders. He wanted to move him for them to be eye to eye and find out if they were able to communicate in some way.

 

The moment his hands touched the expensive coat, the hunter received an unexpected armful of disoriented demon king.

 

‘Balls!’, Bobby cursed, then groaned under the other’s weight, ‘What the Hell happened to you, Crowley?’

 

There was no answer – what was worrying in itself, given such an easy opening for a pun –, just some trembling quite similar to something from a high fever, and Bobby decided the best to do was to carry the demon inside.

 

He arranged to have one of Crowley’s arms over his shoulders and involved his waist, kind of dragging him towards the old sofa in the living room.

 

It didn’t help that Crowley started babbling in some ancient-sounding language.

 

Moving the quivering and seemingly delirious dead weight was not an easy task, and now Bobby half expected to be cursed – especially when the demon’s tone of voice raised to a frantic string of broken sounds when the human left him sitting on the sofa to go to the door and lock it.

 

Bobby came back and watched Crowley, assessing the situation.

 

The vessel was the same, but the Crowley he had known – clear shaven, lean, uber confident for reaching the position of King of the Damned – had changed to a bearded man, with more mature traces and currently under some powerful stress.

 

So, Bobby himself seemed a bit younger, while Crowley seemed a bit older than he remembered.

 

Something very out of ordinary was happening.

 

The demon kept speaking in tongues, his eyes tightly shut, fists clenched on his lap.

 

He trembled and his arms raised a bit, just to fall back, as if he didn’t know how to fight whatever agony he was in.

 

Bobby was not able to say if the suffering was just inside the demon’s mind or there was physical pain, and he needed to investigate in order to help. So, he sat at Crowley’s side and rested a hand on his chest, maneuvering him to support his back on the sofa.

 

The touch startled the demon.

 

For a moment, Bobby thought he would have to defend himself from a punch; however, the now unclenched hands were moving blindly as if to grab whoever was touching him.

 

Bobby realized it was not a gesture of attack, and not even one of self-defense. It was more like Crowley was reaching out for any contact he could have.

 

The hunter quickly decided to seize the opportunity and put one of his hands at reach for Crowley to take.

 

‘That’s all right, man’, Bobby grunted when both hands held his with demon strength, ‘Just don’t break it’.

 

Once Crowley seemed distracted by the contact, Bobby loosened the tie with his free hand and put his fingertips on the base of the demon’s neck. He found pulse, what confirmed he was dealing with a creature with powers to keep his vessel reasonably stable while gravely sick.

 

Crowley whimpered at the contact of fingertips on his skin, and then whimpered again when the contact ceased before he could grab that hand, too. Bobby didn’t know if those were signs of stress or relief, and let go completely.

 

The delirious babbling, that had lessened in agitation while they touched, was back to highly distressed.

 

The problem was not just that it was getting on his nerves. What worried Bobby was that maybe some kind of message was being delivered – something he should be able to decipher, given the number of languages both knew.

 

Not being able to make out any words was the truly nerve-racking thing.

 

Bobby’s shoulders slumped. What if Crowley had managed to come on his own volition when he found himself injured? What if he trusted Bobby to know what to do to help?

 

The prospect of failing anyone who trusted him was horrifying to Bobby.

 

And he didn’t want to fail the creature who had given back his legs and been an useful and loyal ally to him and the boys. He had history with the man currently under his care, and now he was his responsibility.

 

The shuddering persisted.

 

The babbling was interrupted because the demon gritted his teeth, what was even more distressing.

 

An anguished noise escaped Crowley’s throat, and he leaned forward, arms crossed over his chest.

 

Was he cold?

 

Was he scared?

 

Was he locked in some mind place where he was being tortured?

 

That agony needed to be stopped somehow.

 

The feeling of uselessness was making Bobby desperate, and he knew very well that desperation just makes things worse.

 

There was always a way out of any situation, no matter how endgame it seemed.

 

Robert Singer had solved more challenges in his life than anyone else, and he would not be defeated just when he was needed by someone who, under normal circumstances, would mock the idea of being helped by a human.

 

Feeling back in the game, Bobby went into action inspecting the black coat pockets.

 

He was looking for hex-bags or cursed objects.

 

He rested one of his palms on the demon’s chest again, risking a gesture to calm Crowley down a bit while being ransacked.

 

The indirect contact seemed to give some comfort, and the demon got a bit more cooperative.

 

‘Why am I not surprised?’, Bobby made a face at the fact that Crowley, who was always throwing sexual innuendo around, apparently didn’t mind being touched – he even leaned a bit into the hunter’s direction, ‘Not sure it’s a good thing you’re keeping your hands to yourself, though’.

 

Bobby found the inner pocket where the demon probably kept a flask and, to his surprise, felt a piece of paper neatly folded.

 

He extracted the paper eagerly.

 

The moment he did it, Crowley started babbling incoherently again.

 

Bobby unfolded the piece of paper, hope warming his chest.

 

The page had a two-lines Latin text beautifully written in cursive:

 

_Liquorem sacrae quinque_

_Una mecum estis_

 

Bobby frowned, murmuring the translation, ‘ _With the five sacred liquids_ / _You are one with me’._

He concentrated, looking for some meaning in those words.

 

The first thing his brain provided was that, when a _sacred liquid_ was mentioned, it usually meant _holy water_. However, he doubted a demon could be treated to anything with it, and there was no way Bobby was trying the equivalent to _acid_ on a sick Crowley.

 

He scoured his brain for something else.

 

Something he must be missing…

 

Well, there was another liquid that ranked high on magical recipes, and that could be tested on a demon without much fear of going wrong.

_Blood_.

 

Making his decision, Bobby got up and ran to fetch a syringe.

 

Crowley got badly agitated again, his arms now moving around.

 

He really seemed someone desperate for anything to cling on.

 

It occurred to Bobby that a drowning person would move like that.

 

The hunter was back to the sofa in seconds, and almost ripped his shirt off to take some blood from his arm.

 

He put a hand on the side of Crowley’s head to keep him in place.

 

The miserable whimper at his gesture created a knot in his throat.

 

Bobby felt a sudden urge to say something, and froze.

 

Inspiration hit him.

 

It was a _spell._

 

So, while he pressed the syringe on the side of the neck, he said the words of the mysterious page:

 

_Liquorem sacrae quinque_

_Una mecum estis_

 

It worked immediately: Crowley breathed deeply and relaxed against the back of the sofa.

 

He didn’t open his eyes nor seemed more aware of his surroundings, but the shivering subsided, the hands unclenched and just some sparse confused words were spoken.

 

The demon was surely in the lower level of stress since he had appeared from nowhere, and Bobby sighed in relief.

 

Feeling his heartbeat closer to normal, the human patted the demon’s chest, ‘It seems we gained time for some research, buddy’.

 


	2. For better, for worse

‘You must be kidding me’.

Bobby rested his head on his hands, groaning at what he had just learned.

It had taken some hours – and three more blood injections to keep Crowley more or less comfortable while lying down on the sofa – for him to find out the spell related to the mysterious Latin words.

It was some obscure hardcore ancient mumbo jumbo, registered in a small book he didn’t remember seeing before and now was among his reference titles.

The hunter knew something was not right about an unfamiliar book appearing exactly when it was needed and where Bobby would find it easily, but he accepted it for the gift it seemed to be – same thing he had done with the written note in Crowley’s coat pocket – and let the suspicion aside for the moment.

So, he had found out he was dealing with a kind of counter-spell intended to revert a good number of magical ailments through a physical bond between two beings. The said bond should be created by a caretaker, who needed to transfer five fluids of his body to the taken – the creature in need – while saying the ritualistic words. 

The counter-spell just worked if there was previous mutual trust between the beings involved and if the caretaker donated his fluids willingly to the taken.

It seemed relatively easy and powerful magic, and Bobby was wondering why it was so rarely used if it served as a cure-to-a-lot-of-crap thing when he reached the part of the reference text that described the bond as a deep and unbreakable physical and metaphysical connection that provides health to the soul.

That was the last thing written. The next pages of the book were obviously ripped off.

That was the moment when Bobby covered his face with his hands and wondered if some higher power was playing with him. 

There were so many things that didn’t make sense.

For starters, how was possible that Crowley, who a) occupied a meatsuit and not really his body, and b) didn’t have a soul, anymore, could be helped by a spell that connected creatures through bodies and souls? 

Bobby already had to deal with the unusual set of circumstances related to himself – the house that shouldn’t be there but was, the memories that should be there but weren’t, his apparent age change –, with the mystery surrounding how Crowley ended on his doorstep – what had he been doing? Which creature was powerful enough to put him under such spell? How had he managed to reach this house? – and now he had to worry about a reference text that ended abruptly at the point where it would start explaining the consequences of the magic he was doing. 

Bobby lowered his hands and huffed.

There were a lot of unexplained things going on, and maybe he should be more careful with this whole thing. 

However, Crowley was in need, all he had to work on was that piece of paper, partial info from a single book and the evidence that it was working. 

Hopefully the demon soon would get conscious enough to be helpful and clarify what was happening, and they would work together on any collateral effects. For now, the only righteous path was to proceed.

Bobby got up from his desk and walked to the sofa.

He looked down at the figure laying there, took off his cap and scratched his head.

This thing involved souls, and Crowley had Bobby’s for some time. Maybe the counter-spell was working because of that – they may already have some kind of bond that passed as mutual trust. 

Would this ritual somewhat revert things to what they had been then, resulting in Bobby being bonded to Hell through its King? 

Did it mean he would be chased by hellhounds and turned into a demon when he died? 

Or would Crowley, for the time being, gain special powers, like Sam when he was hooked on demon’s blood?

Well, there was no way to know anything for sure, at this point.

The only thing Bobby knew was that he wanted to help Crowley to get better.

So, even if all this was a cunning trap, he was not going to stop now.

The hunter threw the cap at a nearby table, sat on the edge of the sofa and focused on the demon’s face.

He still was in obvious torment. Even if it was subdued by the blood injections, something more than discomfort was happening. 

The low pained moans coming out now and then reminded Bobby of the whimpers of a wounded animal who tried to disguise it is hurt to not seem vulnerable.

It made Bobby’s chest constrict.

Crowley had been difficult to deal with and sometimes openly offensive to the boys, but he had been truthful to his word when it mattered, what scored him many points in the Singer’s Book of Loyalties. 

And he was always decent towards Bobby: he gave him his legs back without being asked, he never tried to hurt him (even after being shot at), he helped every time the older hunter considered he could use some help on demonic matters.

Bobby didn’t understand the preference (especially after the demon was outwitted and obliged to give his soul back), but decided not to question it. 

So, in the few times the King of Hell came for a drink and late night conversation, Bobby accepted it as gracefully as his usually surly mood permitted.

They never mentioned it and would never admit it out loud, but in various occasions demon and hunter parted with the shared impression that their meetings had a positive effect on both. 

Bobby had all the reasons in the world to hate demons. They had ruined his life when one possessed Karen. They had ruined the Winchesters’ lives more times than he could count.

But Crowley was not your regular demon. 

He deserved to be cared for.

Bobby squared his shoulders, preparing himself, and leaned in.

It was time to pass saliva as the second sacred liquid.

He rested his hands on Crowley’s cheeks to stop him from moving away.

The beard under his fingertips was soft, and Bobby caressed it delicately, surprised that it felt so good.

Besides the alarming fact that one of the parts involved was currently unconscious, kissing should not be a problem for them. They had kissed before, for the deal. Doing it again was the easiest way to go on with the spell, and it seemed a plan good enough.

The human tried to rationalize the discomfort of kissing someone who didn’t have a saying in it reminding himself that Crowley would probably not be opposed to kiss him if he did have a saying. The demon had used tongue in the kiss of the deal (the reason why Bobby had answered in kind), and the flirting was always there.

To be sincere, Bobby had kind of expected Crowley to make him some indecent proposition every time he visited. The hunter had received enough bedroom eyes through his life to recognize them and, if the demon was not demure in his innuendo, a lot more could be said about the way he stared when they were by themselves. 

However, even with the obvious sexual tension, for some reason Crowley never pushed things or pressed Bobby on that direction.

The hunter felt, well, respected. 

Besides, it was refreshing to be desired like that, especially when Bobby considered that the one with a crush on him was a powerful being who could easily force him to do things, if he wanted to. The fact Crowley never did it showed he wanted to be close by mutual agreement, not through unrequited intimacy. 

Bobby had never thought about it this way, but now that he had, it was clear Crowley had decided building something true between them was better than resorting to magic or evil deeds, and that must be what had created a kind of trust between them.

Maybe the counter-spell was working because of that – because both were engaged in whatever unspoken thing had been developing between them.

It didn’t make any sense to deny it, now. Bobby often found himself reciprocating Crowley’s relaxed and affectionate attitude towards him. 

It was the first time in his life that he tried to form some kind of positive relationship with a demon, and he was not good with shows of affection, so he may not have been very clear on what he meant with his small gestures, but he did them anyway: sometimes he would pat Crowley’s knee consolingly when he complained about stupid demons; he would smile sincerely while inviting Your Highness to a drink; he would nod amiably when the demon praised his skills; he had even said that, for the King of the Damned, Crowley was not half bad as company.

It never failed to cause a reaction. 

The demon basked in the attentions, visibly glad to have some evidence that he was welcomed…

… and obviously not having a clue of what to do with it.

Bobby pitied the demon because of that: a being so powerful, so quick-minded, so sharp-tongued who, faced with any sincere gentleness, struggled with the urge to accept it and the instinct to rise his defenses. 

He often caught himself thinking of that memorable time when he and the boys summoned the King of Hell to join forces against Castiel, who had declared himself the new God.

Crowley had just asked if they had called him to conspire (as he obviously expected them to), and Bobby answered, ‘No, we want you to just stand there and look pretty’.

Bobby would cherish forever the surprise in the face of the demon, who hadn’t expected to be teased like that in front of the Winchesters, and the effort to hide the contented smile and keep the business conversation going. 

Crowley was a good sport. One of the things to like in him.

So, there was a high possibility that a kiss from Bobby wouldn’t disgust the demon – quite the contrary, in fact – but still Bobby caressed the bearded cheeks with his fingertips while murmuring, ‘I’m sorry for the harassment, Princess’.

He touched the other’s lips with his tentatively.

He didn’t know if there would be any reaction, but he hoped Crowley at least parted his lips. It would be awkward if Bobby had to open the other’s mouth forcefully to spit inside it.

He made sure to be aware of any sign that he had chosen the wrong approach. At the smallest hint he was ready to stop.

Soon it was obvious that his doubts were unjustified.

It seemed Crowley, even in that state, felt that some kind of cure was being offered to him, and opened his mouth eagerly.

Bobby smiled, relieved.

Before he indulged in the kiss, he parted a bit and spoke the words softly:

Liquorem sacrae quinque  
Una mecum estis

Crowley whimpered at the feathery touch of lips while the words were said.

When Bobby leaned all the way in, their tongues found each other and embraced.

Fluids were exchanged in a very wet kiss.

Bobby felt warmth spreading through his body.

It was like he was sharing the cure he was providing.

Oh.

That’s the bond.

So, whatever he was doing to Crowley could be sensed in his own body, once the counter-spell was creating a link between caretaker and taken. 

Now he realized it had happened with the blood, too, and that he had felt calmer not just because Crowley seemed to be calmer, but because he could feel it as if the effect was in himself.

It went through Bobby’s mind that, if this bond was unbreakable, he would share sensations with the King of Hell from now on.

It should bother him. 

However, their kiss felt nice and intimate, and it was difficult to think anything that came from it could be bad.

If he was to be completely sincere, Bobby was finding the kiss delicious.

It was soothing.

It felt like something peaceful and warm after a long and exhausting journey. 

Part of the beauty in it was that he knew he was not alone in this: the bond meant that even the most complex and not nameable emotions could be shared, no words needed, with another being.

And it was good that the being was Crowley, who had a cunning mind and deep respect for Bobby.

They kissed for a long, long time, Bobby surrendering to the positive sensations, the demon responsive and, apparently, enjoying every moment of it. 

The human murmured the magic words from time to time to make sure the counter-spell worked.

He noticed, at some point, that the pacing of the kiss had changed: Crowley’s responses were getting lazy and more delicate, and Bobby went with it, lessening the intensity of the contact.

Tenderness took charge and commanded their actions for a surprisingly extensive amount of time.

When they finally parted, the demon’s head tilted to the side.

And he snored.

‘You fell asleep on me?’, Bobby made an indignant face, ‘You’ll never hear the end of it when I get you awake’.

As if he could hear him, Crowley sighed and nestled even more comfortably on the sofa.

The hunter smiled fondly and licked his lips.

He was surprised at how good the kiss had felt.

At how good it still felt, in fact, if he considered the good sensations cursing through his body – sensations he guessed were being felt by the demon, too.

The process was not as difficult or absurd as it had seemed when it started. Maybe they had a chance to make it work without much fuss.

The warmth of affection filled Bobby’s chest while he looked at the relaxed creature on the sofa.

Maybe the whole situation was messed-up and cryptic, but it felt too damn right.


	3. For richer or poorer

The next step was sweat.

Bobby was not sure how it would work. Would the contact skin to skin be enough for Crowley to absorb the human’s fluid? Or he would have to collect it someway and pour it into the demon’s mouth?

The obvious course of action was testing.

First of all, Bobby wanted to make sure Crowley was still asleep and comfortable, so he rested a hand on the other’s forehead, for the lack of a better idea.

His response was the demon moving under his touch like a cat – rubbing against his hand for a moment, then changing his position to lay more comfortably on the sofa and getting back to dreamland again.

‘Lazy bastard won’t lend me a hand’, Bobby rolled his eyes and got up, ‘Figures’.

The hunter went to his bedroom and took his time selecting some heavy comforters and brought a pile to the sofa. 

Was he awake, the King of Hell would have ranted on being treated like a homeless person who buried himself under a mountain of cheap and overheating covers, but they had no better alternative at the moment than to create a makeshift sauna.

The comforters set aside for the moment, Bobby took off his and Crowley’s clothes – minus underwear, because some decency could still be preserved.

(Even if the demon’s black silk shorts were far from decent, in the human’s opinion. Not just their style clashed with the surroundings, but they didn’t leave much to imagination.) 

Next step, Bobby unfolded the covers and, one by one, threw them over Crowley. 

When he was satisfied with the heavy layers of material, Bobby slipped under the covers and pulled the other man closer unceremoniously.

There was no bad reaction to the forced spooning. Crowley even moved his hips for their bodies to fit better.

Now it was a matter of time to find out if Bobby could make the demon sweat.

Jesus…

Bobby sighed, wondering how things had come to him having the King of Hell in his arms.

Well, he didn’t even know how things had come to him having his own house back. The warm meatsuit against his body was just one more surreal element in the big picture of madness this day had turned into.

His eyes stopped for a moment on the front door and he asked himself what he would do if someone walked in right then.

Would he be ashamed of what he was doing with the King of Hell? 

Nah. 

If someone walked on them right now, Bobby would probably tell them to go to Hell themselves if they were not doing something to help.

But no one would come, right?

Because this house shouldn’t exist.

If he was not so engaged in the process of cure, Bobby would find the energy and focus to be worried about the still unexplained phenomena. However, nothing was more important than the task at hand.

Yeah. At hand.

As expected, he soon was sweating profusely.

Mainly because of the comforters, but at least a bit because Crowley felt soft and warm against him, and Bobby had got tired of keeping his arms in an unnatural position on his own sides and ended up holding the demon. 

The hunter found out, to his utter dismay, that a demon’s meatsuit can transpire, but not much – what meant they would not exchange enough sweat just staying close.

Huffing, Bobby maneuvered to turn Crowley to him, ‘Come here’, he involved the demon’s back with one arm and cradled the head with the other, putting the mouth closer to his neck, ‘Let’s see if you can do it yourself’.

He felt a buzz against his body and frowned, not recognizing it.

Crowley’s lips settled on the side of his neck.

A tentative tongue started exploring.

And then, licking.

Yes, Crowley could do it with no assistance.

The same it had happened with the saliva, it seemed he could feel the cure being offered, and licked at Bobby’s skin as if the hunter was coated in something delicious.

Crowley did so to the neck, then to the shoulders.

That subtle rumble persisted, and finally Bobby realized what it was.

Crowley was purring.

Bobby found it strangely soothing and, still, arousing – a low vibration against his chest, adding to the soft tongue on his skin, the legs that had entwined without him noticing, the ruffling of cotton against silk shorts.

The demon in his arms acted like the stray cat that sought comfort while healing himself, leaning into a human for the warmth it was used to not have but currently needed.

It hit Bobby that it should be the contrary: Crowley was the powerful supernatural silk shorts-wearing creature, while he was a middle-aged human who lived in a hovel. He should have nothing to offer and, still, here they are: the well-being of the King of Hell depending on something just Bobby could offer – and it was not only some bodily fluids, but a whole basket of honest positive feelings of trust and togetherness. 

The words of the spell came out of him in a rough voice:

Liquorem sacrae quinque  
Una mecum estis

Crowley moved down to lick Bobby’s chest thoroughly, and the shared sensations made the human close his eyes and relax on his back.

Things got fuzzed.

His hands found Crowley’s hair and caressed it.

They went down to travel by the muscles of the man’s shoulders. 

The tender exploration was not necessary for the spell, but seemed the only adequate response to those lips and tongue lavishing his skin.

That creature was semi-unconscious. It shouldn’t be so talented or feel so good that Bobby could not help himself but to caress him. However, now they had a bond, he could feel both sides, and his whole body felt the marvelous sensations of needing and being needed.

He felt like he was craving for something that was immediately given to him.

He was having pleasure because he was giving it, not while.

Bobby said the magic words again, this time more moaned than spoken. 

Liquorem sacrae quinque  
Una mecum estis...

A sudden overwhelming desire to kiss Crowley’s mouth surged, and it took all the willpower Bobby could get to focus on his mission.

The spell didn’t require kissing, in that moment. Saliva had already been done.

He just had to stay put and let his demon treat himself to him.

Wait.

His demon?

Bobby gulped down. Not the moment to delve into that.

Right now, his only goal was to offer his skin to be licked.

Right now, he was just a giant popsicle of magic medicine. 

The notion made Bobby laugh.

It was rare that he found such a silly idea so funny, but the whole situation was giving him a feel good feeling, and he indulged. 

To his surprise, Crowley stopped the licking and nestled against him, purring as if in response to Bobby’s sound of enjoyment.

Again, it seemed the demon was sharing the human’s energy to heal himself.

Well, it didn’t seem; it was exactly what was happening, because they had a damn bond. 

The purring was a delicious vibration that soothed but went directly to Bobby’s groin, and he couldn’t refrain from emitting a low approving moan and rubbing his middle against the other man.

Crowley’s reaction was to readjust himself on Bobby’s arms to be even closer than they already were – snuggled is the word –, and then relax completely against the human’s body, the purring turning into an almost unnoticeable background sensation.

And that was how Bobby knew that the third task was done.

Their sauna session resulted in a peaceful and sedated Crowley.

Bobby’s arousal started fading, and he realized it was related to the fact that he was more affected by the process than before, and was going to follow Crowley in whatever state of relaxation he had just entered in.

The human just had clarity of mind enough to throw away the excessive covers before he fell into a slumber.


	4. In sickness and in health

When Bobby woke up, the demon was still cuddling with him.

He looked carefully at Crowley, searching for any signs of tension or illness, and didn’t find any.

He didn’t really need to look, in fact, because Bobby himself felt refreshed and rested, what meant his companion was going well, too.

That bond thing was proving useful.

Knowing the next step of the counter-spell was tricky, the human disentangled himself from the demon and put aside the sweaty covers for posterior washing.

Then, he made sure Crowley was clean from all the transpiration from before and tucked him in with the dry covers. 

Satisfied with his work, Bobby went to his bedroom.

He intended to make a whole ritual out of the forth liquid. He needed focus to accomplish what had to be done, and a change in scenario could help.

He showered and changed into clean boxers and a t-shirt.

While in his bedroom, he looked around, searching for inspiration.

The next step was tears, and those had never come easily to him. 

He read once that the chemical components of tears are different, depending on their motivation. It was not enough to cut some onions, then – he needed truly emotional tears for the magic to work.

And now he was wondering what kind of tears he should look for: would it be easier to explore some bad memories and cry in sadness, or to invest in something so good he cried in joy?

Bobby was not sure he could do either of those.

He didn’t remember the last time he cried. He just knew he still had the glands because he cooked and, well, onions. 

The hunter gave up picking some object or photograph to get a reaction and went back to the main room.

Crowley was still asleep, now on his back, and Bobby gulped down the knot of fear in his throat.

He needed the strength to break the walls inside him if he wanted to go ahead with the counter-spell. 

It would be a tragedy to reach this point and fail because he couldn’t shed a damn tear.

Crying is healthy, he thought, trying to coach himself, It’s supposed to make you feel better.

But since when I am healthy?

Since when I manage to feel better about anything?

‘It might take some time’, he pursed his lips, then pointed a finger to Crowley, just for show, ‘You better move on, buddy’.

Bobby lifted the covers and slipped under them, foreseeing a forced interlude of inactiveness while he couldn’t make his mind on what to do next.

He was on his side, and rested a hand on Crowley’s chest.

It was moving with the demon’s breathing.

So, when Bobby needed the strongest emotions, that annoying creature stayed sleeping so peacefully you could mistake him for an average human, and not the teasing hellish monarch he really was.

‘I need some help, here, Your Highness’, Bobby spoke softly, not really intending to disturb Crowley, ‘No idea of what can do the trick we need’.

The hunter was as far from an idiot as someone can be; he knew his strategy was problematic: if he had to get in touch with his own emotions, rationalizing was not the right path. 

However, he was so used to repress his feelings – yes, through rationalization, but also through booze, through restless research, through affectionate scolding his boys – that he didn’t know how to do it any other way.

Bobby moved his hand to cover the one of Crowley’s that was resting on his stomach.

Appealing to some kind of physical contact seemed a good alternative.

With Karen, he usually conveyed his deepest feelings holding her hand or pulling her into his embrace. It was the closest to let anyone see what really hurt that he ever got, and he knew it was not much.

His wife had been good detecting when things were severe and answered in kind, with the sweetest smile and those eyes that spoke clearly of her support.

Unfortunately, she was not able understand him in the night when they fought about not having children. She didn’t accept his gestures, didn’t understand how deeply wounded he had to be to deny her a complete family like she had always dreamed about, couldn’t accept that he was not able to even consider about it.

The disappointment in her eyes reminded him of his mother’s, and it shut him up. 

It felt useless to insist on making things right. 

He always did what he felt was best, but both women had been disappointed on him.

No matter how earnestly he tried, he always failed.

You break everything you touch.

Bobby gulped down at the voice of his father.

He had spent a life trying to silence that voice, but it came back from time to time, taunting him.

The only way to silence the dead is to forget them, and Bobby never managed to forget what he witnessed when he was a child. He spent his life trying to protect everyone who crossed paths with him – trying to prove he could take care of things – in hopes to prove his stupid old man wrong.

Some people Bobby saved, like many of the victims of the monsters he hunted.

Some of them died at his hands – victims, again, but Karen, and Rufus, and so many others, too.

Luckily, he had helped more than killed. 

And there were the two boys he adopted.

They grew up great.

They grew up heroes.

He had succeeded with them. 

Bobby woke up from his reverie by Crowley’s fingers moving to hold his hand back.

The hunter frowned, realizing he must have passed on his inner turmoil through the bond, ‘Sorry. Didn’t want to-’

He didn’t finish the sentence, because Crowley reached out blindly to him.

Bobby leaned closer, putting himself at reach, curious to what the demon intended to do.

Until now, Crowley had known how to proceed to help cure himself; so, permitting him to take the lead, even while unconscious, could be the best strategy.

The demon pulled Bobby to him until the human’s head was resting against his chest.

Crowley caressed the hunter’s hair soothingly, and Bobby stopped breathing. 

His mother just embraced him when she was too hurt to get up from the floor by herself, or when she needed to implore in his ear that he behaved himself to not disturb his father. It was never a gesture of affection or consolation.

Karen accepted his silent embraces, but he often pondered if she was settling for whatever she could get from him when his traumas were concerned, and it reinforced his feelings of inadequacy. 

This was different.

The creature sharing the sofa with him felt what he was going through and wanted to offer him the only thing it had, right now – a safe place to lean on and let his pain and sorrow show, no words or explanations needed.

Bobby felt grateful.

Through the bond, he felt Crowley’s joy for being there and able to at least offer some comfort.

And that was what broke the walls.

Bobby felt the tears running down his cheeks.

He chuckled in a mix of relief for being able to cry and at the irony of doing so in the arms of a demon who had just been utterly happy because his caring was accepted by the human.

It was strangely sad and beautiful that someone who just wanted to give some solace could have such a strong fear of being rejected.

Crowley entangled his fingers on Bobby’s hair in a tender way, and the hunter found himself sobbing uncontrollably.

He didn’t remember being cradled against someone’s chest for soothing purposes. He was not used to be taken care of.

Crowley hummed lowly and rocked their bodies slightly.

The realization that the demon was singing him a lullaby brought up a new round of tears.

Suddenly remembering why it was happening and aware of the opportunity, Bobby passed his fingers on his face to collect the tears and put them close to Crowley’s mouth.

Warm lips touched his fingertips, sucking at them.

Bobby murmured the words of the spell softly.

Liquorem sacrae quinque  
Una mecum estis

Then, things happened quickly.

Bobby knew that the forth part of the spell had worked – he could feel Crowley’s improved status – but the hand in his hair, added to the deep hum of a lullaby, a stable beating heart under his ear and his emotional exhaustion, took the toll on him, and he fell asleep.


	5. To love and to cherish

When Bobby woke up again, he felt good as he didn’t remember being in a long time, and stretched his muscles in lazy pleasure.

His movements dislodged the arm that had been thrown over his middle, and he blinked away the remains of sleep while reaching out to make sure his bed companion didn’t get too uncomfortable in the new position.

To his surprise, Crowley started stretching, too.

Excited by the novelty, Bobby tried some communication, ‘Hey’. 

The demon turned his head and looked at him through hooded eyes.

‘Crowley?’, he asked, careful to not startle the creature, who seemed dazed, ‘Are you with me?’

The demon squinted as if he had trouble organizing his thoughts, made a face that clearly meant it didn’t bother him at all, lifted his arm again to reposition it around Bobby’s waist and got back to where he had been snuggled before.

He murmured something that sounded like an affirmative, but it was muffled, once he had rested his head on the crook between neck and shoulder of the hunter.

It passed through Bobby’s mind that he should be worried (or at least wary) that the King of Hell was so cozy with him.

However, he would be a hypocrite if he said he was not enjoying it.

‘Yeah, I can see you’re here with me’, Bobby smiled, accepting the hug and resting his hands on the warm back, ‘I meant to ask if you’ve got a mind clear enough for us to talk, idjit’.

A new softly spoken nonsense followed by a sigh were the answers he got.

It seemed Crowley was not completely awake.

So much for communication.

Well, he would do his part.

‘We are at the last phase of the counter-spell’, Bobby spoke, caressing the other man’s back to demand attention while conveying everything was all right, ‘I just thought it would be nice of you to tell me if you’re ok with what I’m going to do’.

The demon moaned something.

‘Come again?’

A low groan and a nip at his neck were the answers, now.

‘You act as if you knew what is gonna happen’, Bobby raised a brow, ‘Well, you must kind of know, if we’re sharing everything through the bond’.

Bobby spoke and blushed.

Next liquid had to be something sexually related, and the only way Crowley could be aware of that through their bond was if Bobby was emitting arousal at the thought of what he was preparing to do.

Well, he was getting hard at the contact of their bodies. The bond may at least serve to make Crowley relaxed about where this was going.

Again, a sudden doubt occurred to Bobby – did the bond connect them so strongly that it could get one of them willing to do something just because the other wanted? – but it went away quickly when he felt Crowley’s hands tugging at the waistband of his boxers. 

Typical shameless Crowley.

If the demon had any level of awareness about the liquid he needed from Bobby, he surely would go right to the source.

Resigned to accept he was beyond the point of caring about how natural it felt being intimate with the demon, and believing those gestures were the closest to a green light he would receive under the circumstances, Bobby took off his boxers.

Again, he didn’t have much time to feel like a cad for doing things to someone who was not totally conscious: the boxers haven’t hit the floor and Crowley’s hand had already encircled his penis to start pumping it slowly.

Once the demon had taken the matters literally in his hands, Bobby relaxed on his back, being at the other’s disposition.

He watched the demon’s face.

Crowley still had a dazed look, but now his eyes were fixed on Bobby’s member. 

His mouth was slightly open, there was a blush on his cheeks, and he had the appearance of a man who was staring at a breathtaking view.

Crowley was lying on his side, wearing just his silk shorts – that rubbed against Bobby’s hip – and the hunter realized the demon may be under some spell, but he was the one enchanted.

There was something engaging about that powerful being, who Bobby remembered as a cunning and ruthless creature, now aroused beyond his mind, snuggled against an old hunter while pumping him leisurely.

It turned everything he thought he knew upside down.

Bobby never cared to analyze how he felt about Crowley, being their time spent by themselves relatively short, but he recognized that feeling of fondness from every time the King of Hell appeared from nowhere in his house and pestered until he was forced to stop his research on Leviathans or whatever to chat with him.

Crowley would always talk about something non-demonic related – he would share a story about Japanese food, or explain the weather around the Dead Sea – as if he wanted to remind Bobby he was not your average insensitive demon, but a creature that had kept enough of his humanity to enjoy having hobbies, a quiet night indoors or just reminiscing. 

It worked for Bobby. He forgot he had a demon in front of him. Since the first time they met and Crowley wanted to convince him of making a deal, he never really saw the demon as a soulless twisted thing occupying a stolen body; and in those moments, in his quiet living room, Bobby managed to see a man – a cultured and experienced man – who enjoyed his company and, if the circumstances were right, could have been his best buddy.

Sometimes Bobby even wondered how it would have worked if Crowley had been his long-term friend. 

He almost could see Rufus stopping by for a beer and making faces at the clad-in-black snob who Bobby insisted in hosting, even knowing he was a demon. 

And he could almost see Crowley’s smirk telling Rufus he was ungrateful for the help to bury bodies the King had given him from the goodness of his non-existing heart.

Those thoughts were entertaining.

In real life, to everybody else, Crowley was the Demon King; however, when they were by themselves, he was just a lonely being who cherished good company and a clever chat…

Exactly like Bobby.

Of course, Crowley obviously liked other things about Robert Singer. 

The human guessed the demon was as pansexual as one can be, getting attracted to types of beings Bobby didn’t even know existed, if the undetailed stories were a hint.

In fact, the King of Hell could have sex wherever and whenever he wanted, and he probably had had a lot, in his existence as a demon. Sex was a sin, and the flirty innuendo suggested Crowley was very interested in that specific sin. 

And, still, he went out of his way to stare longingly and spend time with an old hunter who didn’t offer more than a pat on the knee and a nice word, now and then.

Crowley could have possessed a woman and come to Bobby’s door to seduce him; he could have used his superior strength to touch the hunter as it pleased him. 

And, still, he stayed there, sipping a drink, sharing stories, throwing gratuitous innuendo, pining for a man who would probably never give him what he wanted, in terms of sex.

Bobby hadn’t tried to mislead Crowley. He never made promises, but he knew he was growing fond of the demon and the kind of intimacy they had; he believed something would probably happen between them, given enough time.

The hunter was not the type of man to not do something he felt like doing based on other people’s opinions, and he was starting to realize Crowley’s efforts were getting the demon somewhere.

Robert Singer would be damned if he didn’t kind of already feel like doing Crowley.

The fact Bobby didn’t have a house and the damn Leviathans were trying to destroy the world was getting in the way, but if he, Sam and Dean manage to win that battle he would have peace of mind to deal with whatever was happening between him and the Kind of Hell. 

They were already close, what should have been an impossible notion for a hunter who had lost his wife because of a demon and a demon whose reason of living was to write and seal contracts that damned souls. 

That was a good point for them to start from.

Bobby liked Crowley. Had liked him before this whole counter-spell thing, and now liked even more, because the bond exposed the demon’s feelings and made him an open book for the hunter.

The realization that the present circumstances were clarifying their past relationship made Bobby’s heart skip the proverbial beat, and it caught Crowley’s attention.

The hand on the penis stilled for a moment and their eyes locked.

Those greenish depths said everything Bobby needed to know.

Crowley’s mind was clouded by desire and some kind of desperate need, but he had felt Bobby’s reactions to the memories of them.

The demon knew who he was with, and he somewhat knew they were in the same page, too, in terms of how they trusted and relied on each other.

The hunter raised a hand absentmindedly. He craved to touch, but didn’t know what or where or even how. 

The situation had opened his eyes, and now he couldn’t un-see how attractive he found that unusual demon for everything he was – his character, his style, his chosen body, his intelligence.

He was attracted to the whole package.

Crowley gulped down, moved at the flow of lust laced with affection.

Bobby’s hand rested on his face, caressing the bearded cheek.

The demon leaned his head against the palm, enjoying the gesture.

Then he kissed the palm of Bobby’s hand, extracting a low moan from the hunter.

Crowley snuggled closer and leaned in to join their mouths.

Bobby sighed in relief at the kiss.

He didn’t know how much he wanted those lips again until they touched his.

His hands started exploring freely the warm skin and soft forms at his reach, free of any hesitation.

The pumping on his member resumed, deliciously slow.

The body against his felt too good.

Their mouths fitted perfectly.

Bobby had a strong passing feeling related to Heaven – something about Heaven not being good because being apart didn’t make sense – but it was a fleeting notion, so quickly washed away that he wondered if that thought had been his.

Well, Heaven could wait.

They deserved this.

Nothing would tear them apart, now.

The feeling must have been projected through their bond, because Crowley immediately answered to it with some maddening thrusts of his tongue in Bobby’s mouth, the pumping on his member gained a new pace and the human felt his climax approaching quickly.

Feeling it, too, Crowley separated their lips and rested his forehead against Bobby’s, never stopping the movements with his hand and murmuring the softest Robert the hunter had ever heard.

The demon’s voice reminded Bobby he had his own words to say, and he fought the breathlessness to recite them:

Liquorem sacrae quinque  
Una mecum estis

To his surprise, Crowley spoke again, in a raspy but decisive voice, ‘Tuus sum’.

Bobby’s mind was in overdrive, but he knew what that meant.

It was an answer to the counter-spell text.

I’m yours.

His brain tried to warn him that whatever was happening was serious and deep and definitive, but the rhythm of the hand on his penis was hypnotic, and he found himself repeating the last words and being answered each time.

‘Una mecum estis’

‘Tuus sum’

It felt perfect.

‘Una mecum estis’

‘Tuus sum’

It was sublime.

‘Una mecum estis’

‘Tuus sum’

Everything was falling into place.

‘Una mecum estis’

‘Tuus sum’

Bobby rolled his eyes in pleasure and came long and hard, his hips rolling with each delicious spasm, a loud growl filling the air of the room.

He felt good all over.

He didn’t know how he could be in that place nor how his companion had found him there, but it didn’t matter at all if they could be like this forever.

Nothing compared to that.

Bobby felt the weight of someone straddling him.

He forced his eyes to focus and rested his hands on the demon’s thighs.

No creature could be more beautiful than Crowley, languidly licking Bobby’s semen from his hand while looking down at him through eyes half-closed in pleasure. 

The big dark spot on the silk shorts showed the demon had had an orgasm, too, and Bobby understood the intensity of what he had just felt was related to sharing their pleasure through the bond.

So, the demon was probably riding the same high he was.

Crowley sucked his own fingers, and Bobby felt the fifth liquid spreading through his body as if he was the one under the effect.

The demon lowered his hands to his thighs, joining them with the hunter’s and enlacing their fingers.

Crowley closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

When he opened them, he looked at Bobby.

The familiar clarity of his mind was back.

The counter-spell was complete.

The King of Hell smiled at the hunter.

A blissful feeling took Bobby and he smiled back.

However, before he could do anything else, he passed out.


	6. Till Death do us Part - Part 1

When Bobby woke up again, he felt boneless and still in need of some sleep.

It was not a bad kind of exhaustion. It was more like the delicious knowledge that he not just deserved to rest but could do it for as long as he wanted.

It probably had to do with the fact that he had no memory of what he had been doing previously to the process of taking care of Crowley (what he had managed beautifully, by the way). So, no appointments or responsibilities in sight, just a warm bed, a dark room and his wish to slip back into unconsciousness.

Why not seize the peace and quiet for a while more, once he had succeeded in his mission?

As if in answer to his thoughts, the lights went on.

Just low lights. 

Some blinking was enough for him to adjust and take a look around.

He still was in the Sioux Falls house, but in his bedroom.

By his side, sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing his flawless black suit and apparently having made a full recover, was Crowley.

‘Hey’, Bobby greeted, moving to sit on the mattress, but stopping mid-way to suppress a yawn, ‘Sorry’.

The King of Hell spoke softly, ‘I see you’re still tired’.

‘Yeah’, Bobby forced his eyes to focus, ‘And you seem a lot healthier than last time we met’.

Crowley tilted his head, ‘I’m cured’.

Bobby grunted an acknowledgement and rested his back on the headboard, ‘Have lots of questions’. 

Greenish eyes squinted, ‘Naturally’.

‘No idea how I’m here. Last I remember this house was burned down’. 

The demon seemed surprised, ‘What’s exactly the last thing you remember, darling?’

‘Infiltrating Dick Roman’s office’.

Crowley blinked, ‘That was four years ago’, at Bobby’s wide eyes and sudden agitation, he quickly added, ‘The Leviathans were defeated. Sam and Dean are alive and well’.

The human relaxed at the news, ‘Well, no wonder I’m so tired. My brain is playing hide-and-seek with me’, Bobby groaned in frustration, ‘Have a lot to catch up but feel like haven’t slept in a century’, he yawned again, ‘Balls!’

The familiar expression made Crowley smile fondly.

Bobby found himself smiling, too, ‘You’re really ok? That was some serious crap’.

The smile faltered, and Crowley seemed at a lack of words.

The inner struggle was so strong Bobby frowned when the sensation hit him, ‘You know I can feel you, right?’

‘Pardon?’

‘The counter-spell bonded us’, he made a vague gesture between them with his hand, ‘I can hear your inner demons shouting from here. I don’t know what they’re saying, but I know it’s bothering you’.

Crowley paled.

‘Need to find out more about it, but we can deal with it later’, Bobby’s eyes were tingling with sleep, but he was too aware of the agitated demon to let it go, ‘Better tell me what’s wrong before I zone out’, he tried to look menacing, ‘You don’t want me to wake up cranky and lack of info makes me cranky’.

It worked: the demon was disarmed by the trademark Singer way to imply he will resort to violence if you keep acting like an idiot, and he spoke, softly, ‘What was done to me was far from pleasant’, Crowley munched over the words before adding, ‘Whatever caused it, knew where to hit’.

‘Could see it’, Bobby nodded, ‘But it’s over?’

‘Yes, that is over’.

The human noticed something was off with the phrasing, but let it go for the moment, ‘And what about the bond?’

The demon gulped down, ‘I can feel you, too’.

‘Thought so’, Bobby stared at the other’s face attentively, ‘Is it too bad?’

‘No. Not at all’, Crowley answered hurriedly, seemed to regret it and added, ‘I just don’t have a frame of reference for some of the… impressions I’m getting from you. Most of what I pick up are…’, he sneered, ‘feelings’.

‘That’s ok’, Bobby reached out to pat Crowley’s knee and moved back to lay under the covers, ‘We’ll work on that’, Bobby caught himself yawning again, ‘I won’t be good company, now’.

‘That’s all right, darling’, the change in subject somewhat relaxed Crowley, ‘You better sleep as much as you need to recover’. 

The King lifted his arm and Bobby waited to find out what the demon intended to do with the hand currently advancing towards him.

He turned it to caress Bobby’s beard delicately with its knuckles, ‘It was not an easy task the one you accomplished’.

‘It worked’, Bobby closed his eyes under the touch, ‘That’s what matters’.

The contact ceased suddenly, and Bobby opened his eyes.

Crowley had recoiled his hand and was holding it as if it had been burned.

The inner struggle was back, pouring from the demon in a disarray of attraction, gratitude, affection and panic.

Bobby just stared. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to help, he was not coherent enough for it, now.

The King must have felt it, and he was able to recover enough to speak, ‘Don’t worry about me, Robert’, he cleared his throat, ‘I will seek information on what may have happened to you’.

‘And to you’.

‘…Yes’.

‘Thanks’.

‘Now I strongly recommend you get back to your beauty sleep’.

Bobby nodded and extended a hand, palm up, on the mattress, ‘Will you stay?’

There was some hesitance before a warm hand rested on his and the answer came, ‘Hell needs me’.

‘Then you go’, Bobby couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, ‘But you’ll come back’.

‘Yes’, Crowley’s fingertips caressed his hand, ‘As soon as I can’.

‘Right’.

The warm hand kept holding Bobby’s.

No words were said for some moments.

Conscience was fading quickly, but Bobby needed to say something more, and he smiled, ‘Your Highness?’

He realized he didn’t need to make the effort to open his eyes. He could feel the waves of affection coming from the demon, ‘Say it, love’. 

‘You be good’.

A long silence followed that.

The hand stroking his was unbelievably soft. 

Almost as if the whole moment was so surreal any sudden move could shatter it.

Bobby felt a gentle kiss on his forehead and caught the whispered answer just before he fell into oblivion, ‘I’ll see to it, Robert’.

xxx

Well, Bobby had the best of intentions, but Crowley was not making things easy.  
In the first day without news, the hunter pondered it was too early to expect a visit from the demon. Ruling Hell must be demanding (he had no idea; never been to the place). Besides, he had an entire house he thought lost to be rediscovered and appreciated.   
So, he spent that day busy and relatively in peace with the waiting, even if thoughts of Crowley and how much he wanted him there invaded his mind often.  
To his surprise and relief, he had food, water and electricity in the house that had not existed for four freaking years.   
There was no booze, but Bobby didn’t feel really like resuming his drinking habits.   
First day flew away comfortably through reading, cooking and drinking milk.

xxx  
First night was a lot worse.  
Bobby didn’t feel tired, anymore, but wanted to keep a healthy routine of sleep.  
He decided not to stay on the sofa. It reminded him too much of Crowley and the things they had done there, and sleep surely would delude him.  
He went to his bedroom, but the memory of a soft hand touching his and those conflicted greenish eyes made him crave to sooth the pain of that dark creature through soft kisses and warm hugs.  
(Something really out of the ordinary was happening to him.)  
He honestly tried to sleep, lying on his bed stubbornly.  
All he managed was to look at the ceiling while overthinking the situation.  
The inevitable happened: Bobby got aroused and touched himself thinking of Crowley.  
Doing so instead of summoning the one he desired was not the more dignified thing he had ever done, but far from the worst.  
At least then he managed to sleep.

xxx

In the second day Bobby turned on the TV to find out what the world was going through, and the news on the last weeks of strange phenomena – including the sun losing part of its force and then getting suddenly back with no explanation – made him wonder if his reappearance was related to that.  
He thought of calling Sam and Dean, but then he considered the amount of effort involved in convincing them he was himself, and the absurdly little information he had on his own situation, and gave up contacting them for now.  
He missed his boys, but no sense in disturbing them with his problems. If he knew them – and he did –, they were involved in some metaphysical crap and didn’t need him to come over with more unexplained things.  
Bobby did some research of his own, but it proved difficult, thanks to Crowley.  
First, because the book with the counter-spell was missing, and the only possibility that occurred to Bobby was that the demon had found it on his desk and decided to confiscate the material for some reason.  
Second – and more important –, he found himself distracted by how much he missed the demon.   
It was physical desire, but his erotic thoughts were laced with worry for the lack of news, and Bobby caught himself staring at nothing, supporting his chin on a hand and listening to sad country songs while wondering what could be taking that creature so long to contact him.  
He touched himself like a horny teenager through the day.   
And, even if the fantasies took away the edge, he still felt unfulfilled and wanting more.

xxx

In that night, he didn’t just touch himself.  
He did so, and then he dreamed of Crowley.  
In the dream, Bobby was in the yard, waiting for the demon to appear.  
There was no summoning, no ritual, nothing. Just his intense desire to see him again and his hope the King could feel it among his other interests.  
He thought he would faint when Crowley appeared in front of him, smiling.  
They hugged tight, happy to be together, basking in the contact.  
And then they kissed.  
And then they touched each other inside Bobby’s old truck, because going to the house was not really necessary – it was hot to be bold and naked outside, where anyone could see.  
The hunter woke up in the middle of some very interesting action and had to take care of it with his own hands, again. 

xxx

At the third day with no news, Bobby realized he just wasn’t furious because he missed that bastard too much.

Well, he had a bond with a heartless creature. The fact he worried about his absence, remembered good moments together, indulged in every emotion and physical sensation they had shared during the counter-spell and wondered what he could be doing or if he was safe probably made no difference for the demon. 

The King must be raising some Hell and not sparing a thought about him.

Bobby wondered if being in different realms made their bond weaker, because he couldn’t feel Crowley in anyway, and that was one of the things that was making him crazy.

Bobby was human, he had a heart and he craved to have Crowley close – even more because now it meant physically and emotionally close.

Yeah, he wanted to hug the damn demon. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to touch his body. He got aroused thinking of him.

But, more than that, he missed feeling the emotions he evoked in Crowley. He wanted to witness the surrender of that cold creature to the warmth of his fondness. He wished to shower him with affection and receive back the good feelings that the demon couldn’t control or hide, now that they had a bond.

That could not go on. He was going crazy without his demon.

Yes, his demon.

Sudden fear took Bobby.

What if Crowley had found a way to sever their connection, and the longing was just Bobby’s, now?

What if Crowley had been hurt or captured by an enemy and in need of help while Bobby was there, being useless and stupid?

Realizing the situation was getting ridiculous, Bobby gathered the ingredients to summon Crowley.


	7. Til Death do us part - Part 2

Even if relieved at the sight of a wholesome demon, the hunter knew he was going to face a less than amused King of Hell, and expected some serious backlash.

However, the moment Crowley saw who had summoned him, he had a deer-in-the-headlights look and snapped his fingers in an urgent move to disappear. 

That was very unusual for the ever-confident demon. 

Fortunately, Bobby was always prepared, and the well-placed demon’s trap on the floor made sure no one was escaping this meeting.

‘What do you want?’, Crowley growled when he accepted he didn’t have a way out.

‘Good morning to you, too’, Bobby growled back while pressing a cloth against the palm he had cut for the summoning.

The eyes of the demon settled on the covered hand for a moment, then he forced himself to look away, ‘I’m a busy man, Singer. Get to the point’.

Bobby squinted, ‘You promised to be back’.

Crowley rolled his eyes in painfully fake nonchalance, ‘Oh, well, Flash News: I’m a demon’, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, ‘It was very naïve of you to keep waiting’.

Bobby threw away the bloodied cloth and crossed his arms on his chest, ‘It doesn’t sound like you’.

‘I said I was coming as soon as I could, and I couldn’t’.

Both realized that was a step back from the previous statement.

The human raised his brows.

The demon closed his eyes in regret.

When Crowley opened his eyes again, he looked insistently at some point of the nearby wall, still obviously avoiding Bobby’s face, ‘You should have more sense than to expect anything from me’.

‘You’re not fooling anyone, here’, the hunter stayed calm, trying to balance the demon’s barely repressed panic hitting him in waves through the bond, ‘We were to work on our situations together’.

Crowley blinked as if he had to make a physical effort to not look at the man speaking to him and shuffled his feet.

He looked like a child who was being chastised and, even if not admitting it out loud, knew had done wrong, and Bobby felt some walls cracking.

Maybe they had a chance to reach an understanding. 

His hope was felt, and Crowley’s whole body stiffened, ‘Haven’t you contacted your boys? They certainly have something to tell you on the last years. It’s not like you depend on me for news’.

‘All right’, Bobby stepped closer to the trap, choosing a more direct approach, ‘Enough of this bullshit’.

‘Good decision’, Crowley grinded his teeth, ‘Just break the trap and I’ll be gone, Singer’.

‘It’s Robert, to you’.

Crowley’s façade fell and he stared wide-eyed at the man in front of him, ‘What?’

‘You call me Robert’, Bobby entered the trap fearlessly, ‘You look me in the eye until I get uncomfortable, not the other way around’, he saw his point being proved by Crowley not sustaining his glance, ‘And, most of all, you keep your promises. What the Hell happened – or what happened in Hell – for you to disappear like that? And why you have your guts in a knot, now, after all we went through together?’

Then, something bizarre happened.

Crowley seemed to be fighting to keep his head high, emotionally and physically speaking, and losing. 

Bobby felt the turmoil inside the demon and steeled himself to keep his stance. 

He had done his part.

The ball was on Crowley’s court, now.

The demon clenched his fists stubbornly, ‘I’m not explaining myself’.

The hunter stared for some moments, still hoping for a sudden change of heart. 

However, Crowley was getting more and more agitated under the hardly kept unwavering appearance.

‘All right’, admitting defeat and not wanting to cause such torment, Bobby sighed and turned away, ‘I didn’t contact the boys because I was waiting for you’, he explained, exiting the trap and picking a knife from a nearby table, ‘I decided to keep a low profile until we talked it over’, he knelt at the edge of the trap and risked the line to break it, ‘I wanted us to figure out what to do about this whole thing together’, he stood up, ‘But if you say I was wrong and it’s not happening, that’s how it’s gonna be’.

Bobby finished his statement and turned around to put the knife back on the table.

He wanted to give Crowley the chance to go away while he was not looking. 

He was sad, but no way he was pressuring someone who was not used to workgroup into staying just because that was what he wanted.

Bobby waited for some moments.

He still felt the other’s presence, now nervous and unsure, behind him.

He turned and saw Crowley with a pained expression on his face, his fingertips joined in front of him in an open expression of misery.

Bobby couldn’t resist the urge to help when he felt the wreck of the demon’s emotions, and he walked back to the edge of the trap, this time speaking softly, ‘What is it?’

Crowley’s sad-puppy expression intensified, ‘You’re disappointed on me’.

Bobby frowned, then reminded himself he had a bond with an emotionally constipated being and clarified, ‘Not on you. I’m disappointed we are not working together’, he squared his shoulders to gain strength to say what he wanted to, ‘And I’ve been missing you, but you say you don’t want to be here. I know it’s a lie, but I can’t do anything about it now’, he shrugged, ‘I guess I’ll have to move on’.

Crowley gulped down, big distressed eyes never leaving Bobby’s.

The hunter made a vague gesture to the trap, ‘You realize you can go, don’t you?’

‘No’, Crowley advanced until he was right in front of the other man, ‘I can’t leave you like this’.

‘Do you have to?’, Bobby leaned in, locking eyes with the demon, ‘Do you need to leave me like this?’

The eyes went to the hunter’s lips, ‘I should’, the hands rested on the broad chest, ‘But I can’t’.

Crowley looked pleadingly at Bobby.

The bond was screaming Let me go and Please, make me stay.

Bobby enlaced Crowley’s waist, pulled him close and joined their mouths. 

It started tentative, but the bond came to life stronger than any of them expected.

Both had missed the other. Both craved for contact. Both were relieved to be together again.

They surrendered to the kiss, no hesitation and no holding back.

Hands started roaming and soft sounds were made.

In their enthusiasm, Crowley pushed Bobby backwards until the hunter was sitting on the sofa.

The demon stood in front of him, panting.

The human was so fascinated by the novelty of a hard-breathing devil that he had to adjust himself in his jeans.

He just realized he had opened his legs enticingly when a new wave of arousal coming from Crowley hit him.

Bobby leaned a bit forward, focusing on the trust between them.

Crowley leaned the rest of the way in, getting what Bobby was trying to convey through the bond and reciprocating it.

They met halfway to kiss.

There was a delicate new pace going on, with a subtle tinge of pain.

Being understood and cared for was so rare and overwhelming it hurt.

Bobby realized that thought was his, too, but mostly not his. 

‘Don’t worry’, the human managed to speak between kisses, ‘You’ll get used to it’, his tongue teased the other man’s lower lip, ‘It goes both ways’, he nipped lightly at the lip, ‘And we deserve something nice, don’t we?’

The words, along with the feelings shared, wrapped them both in a surge of joy, and Crowley explored Bobby’s mouth more fervently.

When they parted, he caressed Bobby’s beard with one hand while the other reached to cup the front of his jeans, and he leaned closer to whisper against the human’s ear, ‘Please?’

‘I don’t know exactly what you’re asking’, the hunter smiled, ‘But yes’, he turned his head to kiss the palm against his face, ‘I trust you’.

Bobby was in awe at the emotion that came from Crowley.

It was relief. 

It was so intense it made his own eyes water.

The demon knelt on the floor in front of the sofa and, with a gesture of his wrist, their clothes vanished, and he took Bobby in his mouth.

The thrilling sensation of pleasing and being pleased captured both of them, and the bond turned into pure desire, no rational thoughts allowed.

It seemed impossible that they had managed to be apart for so much time.

That was perfection.

Both of Crowley’s hands were visible to Bobby, engaged in some sinful touches on the human’s thighs and balls and some other places he didn’t even know were so nice to be touched, and he was surprised to realize that, even if that meant the demon was not touching himself, he somewhat knew they would come together.

Bobby was certain that every time they got intimate it would be strong and deep and delicious, that they would share every sensation and that there was no way back from this.

As expected, when he came in Crowley’s mouth, Bobby could feel his partner coming, too.

The demon stayed on his knees after they were done, affectionately licking Bobby’s penis, taking his seed to the last drop.

And then he stayed there just caressing the member with his fingertips, his cheek rested comfortably against Bobby’s stomach.

The hunter had a hand on the demon’s hair. Petting him helped him to feel anchored and get back to the real world after something so intense. 

When Bobby asked softly for him, the demon stood and permitted the hunter to pull him to sit across his lap.

They snuggled – Crowley with his arm around Bobby’s shoulders, Bobby planting delicate kisses on the demon’s chest – and stayed quiet, enjoying the closeness for some time.

They joined hands, and Bobby wouldn’t mind staying like that for hours, but he could feel the struggle slowly building itself inside Crowley again, and he pulled him a bit closer, ‘Just relax for a while, Princess’.

The demon enjoyed greatly the nickname, but he parted enough to look into Bobby’s face seriously, ‘You don’t get it, do you, love?’

‘If you mean I don’t get what made you change your mind, you can bet on it’, he pulled the demon shamelessly against him, ‘But I’m glad you did’, he planted a noisy kiss on the other’s shoulder, ‘Was going mad without you’. 

‘Oh, Robert’, Crowley sighed, ‘You really have no idea what is going on’.

‘Something tells me you’re not talking just about yourself deciding to stay for a while’, Bobby loosened his grip a bit, ‘Are you ready to have that conversation?’

‘Yes, beardy’, Crowley moved to sit on the sofa, completely parted from Bobby, but the hunter got a hold on his legs, keeping them on his lap. The position was comfortable, and Crowley would not complain at Bobby Singer caressing his legs while they chatted, ‘I’m ready to talk about the spell’.

‘It was a counter-spell, in fact’, Bobby corrected delicately, ‘It was supposed to forge a bond to cure you from a spell’.

‘A bond between caretaker and taken’.

‘That was what the book said’. 

Bobby was going to ask if it was Crowley who had taken the book, but the demon spoke again before he could, ‘Tell me, love: it didn’t occur to you why one side is called taken?’

Bobby frowned and his hand stilled on Crowley’s leg, ‘No’.

The demon sounded resigned, ‘I guess you were not feeling mine, but I have been feeling your emotions since we parted, Robert’. 

That was surprising.

‘Did you know that time in Hell passes quicker than on Earth? That it was two days and a half for you, but months for me?’

‘Dean didn’t talk much about his time in Hell’, Bobby remembered, ‘But he commented something about that’.

‘Then you try to picture it in your mind: every time you had a flashing thought about me, I would feel the echoes of it for hours. Every feeling of fondness, every moment of longing, your unfunded and – even cuter because of that – worries’, Crowley clenched his jaw, ‘I felt everything’. 

‘I’m sorry’, Bobby made a face at the notion, ‘I guess it was distracting’.

‘You guess, pet?’, Crowley showed his teeth in a feral grin, ‘Then let’s talk about your masturbation routines’.

Bobby blushed, realizing where it was going, ‘Oh’.

‘First time it really hit me I was in court’, Crowley closed his eyes at the memory, then opened them again, ‘I had already felt your desire, but it had been controlled by you, so I was able to suppress it, too, and went on with my duties. But not that time. Crossing my legs and covering my lap with piles of papers was not enough. I had to dismiss everybody. I couldn’t pay attention to any moronic plea, anyway’, he licked his lips, ‘I don’t know exactly how much time it took to you here, but that torture lasted hours for me’. 

Bobby frowned, ‘You couldn’t finish off your… side of it?’

‘I could and I have, multiple times, darling. But that is where things get interesting’, Crowley’s eyes showed an annoyance that was endearing, ‘I couldn’t have a real release until you had yours. No matter what I did – and believe me, Hell offers many options – it felt wrong, and not in a fun way’, he sighed, ‘I was always longing for something else’, he looked deeply into Bobby’s eyes, ‘For you’.

Their lips joined for a delicate kiss.

‘I didn’t know, Crowley’, Bobby resumed the caress on the legs when they parted, ‘I was worried and I missed you. It didn’t cross my mind that you could be feeling me if I was not feeling you’.

Crowley leaned his head, ‘Do you understand now why the spell called the one in the receiving end the taken?’, he rubbed his eyes tiredly, ‘The one in charge is you’. 

‘In charge of what?’

The demon smiled fondly at the edge of panic in the hunter’s voice, ‘You can feel me as much as I can feel you when we’re close, but I’m emotionally attached to you – so, when we’re apart, I am influenced by your emotions and wishes, no matter how far from each other we are, while your mind is free’.

There was silence for some moments.

Bobby was processing the data he had been given.

Crowley kept staring unwavering at him.

‘Tone that down’, Bobby scolded, ‘I’m trying to think, here’.

‘Sorry, love’, Crowley answered, realizing his fondness had poured abundantly through the bond, ‘You’re just the cutest when you’re focused on something’.

‘Don’t forget I know you’re sincere, now’, Bobby raised a brow.

‘It takes off some of the fun in playing with your mind’, Crowley smirked, ‘But it’s worth it’.

Both leaned in for some light kisses, the revelations left aside for the moment.

When they parted, Bobby spoke, ‘I don’t get it’, he frowned slightly, ‘You’re a demon. Not the usual demon, but still. How can you be so calm about it?’

‘It’s useless to fuss about what is done’, Crowley passed a hand on his own beard, ‘The bond is unbreakable’.

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Quite. I consulted specialists in Hell. It took me some time to make a believable story on why I was interested in that, but I managed’.

‘But…’, Bobby still couldn’t wrap his head around it, ‘You have feelings, now – yours and mine. How is it you’re not in full-time panic?’

Crowley was suddenly uncomfortable, ‘There are things you don’t know, Robert’.

Next thing Bobby knew he was holding empty air, the demon was standing in front of him and, with a move of his wrist, both were wearing their clothes again.

The hunter watched in bewilderment while Crowley seemed to be readying himself to be King of Hell again, adjusting his tie and wiping off imaginary dust from his coat as if they hadn’t been in the middle of a life-changing conversation.

‘What should I know?’, Bobby pressed on.

Crowley frowned, but a look at Bobby’s face made him cave in, ‘It seems I already had deep feelings for you – feelings I had under control, once there was nothing much I could do about them after you died, four years ago…’, Bobby opened his mouth in shock but Crowley raised a hand for him to wait, once there was more to come, ‘…I tried to keep your soul in Hell with me but you were rescued by your boys and delivered to Heaven; thus, I was out of options’.

‘I what?’, Bobby sat tensely on the sofa, ‘No, erase that. You what?’

‘Yes, I had your soul for a while after your death’, Crowley rolled his eyes as if it was not a big deal, ‘It made me feel things I hadn’t in a long time’, at the other’s frown, he looked just a bit repentant, ‘I was grieving. I wanted to keep you with me. I can’t sincerely say I regret it’.

‘I guess I get it’, Bobby relaxed a bit on the sofa, ‘You had the power to try to make up for last chances and you used it’.

The bond filled with Crowley’s happiness at being understood.

‘How did I die?’, Bobby asked lowly.

‘You managed to exit Dick Roman’s headquarters, but a bullet of his found your head’, the demon sat beside Bobby, ‘You stayed around as a ghost to help Sam and Dean. I kept an eye on you and had to intervene discretely at some exaggerations when the vengeful spirit thing took a toll on you’, he rested a hand on Bobby’s knee, ‘You, being the righteous soul we all knew and loved, ended up asking for the boys to send you away’.

‘And that was when you kidnapped my soul’.

‘Exactly’.

‘The boys found out about it and went after me?’

‘Your rescue was part of a big plan to close the gates of Hell. They had trials to do, and for one of them they needed to get a soul that was damned but didn’t deserved it and take it to Heaven. They found out about you from a reaper and the rest is History’, Crowley’s eyes steeled. ‘The last step was to cure a demon. And for that I was chosen’.

That time Bobby didn’t even try to say anything. He just waited for Crowley to tell the tale.

‘Moose injected his blood in me. Blood purified by confession’, he breathed deeply at the memory, ‘Squirrel convinced him to stop when they found out he would die if he completed the task, but to me it was already too late: I was still a demon, but all those pesky human emotions had been released – what included, obviously, my feelings for you’. 

Crowley stopped speaking abruptly, got up again, adjusted his clothes and seemed ready to poof away, ‘That is why I’m so unfazed about having feelings, Robert. I’ve been dealing with the annoying things for a while, thanks to your boys’.

‘If the bond is unbreakable’, Bobby spoke, eager to stall the demon’s disappearance, ‘We must find a way to tamper it’.

Crowley frowned, surprised, ‘What?’

Bobby sat at the edge of the sofa, very serious, ‘This thing is good for me, in general – the missing is maddening, but I can cope and even refrain from, well, thinking dirty when you are away, now that I know you’re aware of everything. But to you it’s a pain in the ass. We have to find a way around it’.

Crowley smiled sadly, ‘It’s too late for that, pet’.

Bobby got up and put his hands on Crowley’s shoulders, ‘It’s not like you to give up like this!’

The demon was startled for a moment, but soon relaxed under the touch, ‘Every time we exchange any of the body fluids of the spell I get more connected to you, Robert. Right now I’d probably not be able to deny you anything, and it’ll just get worse’, he lowered his eyes, ‘I am an addict. I know how it works, and that is why I was trying to keep my distance – because I know I’d come back for more, sooner or later. I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you. I was just stalling the inevitable’, he looked back at Bobby, ‘I appreciate your worry, but I know there’s no way out for me’.

‘What do you mean you are an addict?’, the hunter frowned, his hands now on the other’s bearded cheeks, ‘You’re not talking about booze, are you?’, his eyes widened in worry, ‘Does it have to do with the human feelings? Did you get addicted to some strong stuff to deal with them?’

Crowley smiled at Bobby’s worry about him, ‘Not exactly, love’, he got serious again, ‘The result of Moose’s work was that I got most of human emotions back and, for some unfathomable play of Fate, I got addicted to them. For some time I resorted so much to injections of human blood – not blessed, just your regular red potion – to get highs that I almost lost all I had conquered in my unlife’. 

Now it made sense to the hunter that Crowley would try not to look at the hand he had just cut for the summoning.

He was addicted to human blood; it must be a challenge to deal with Bobby’s blood after the counter-spell.

The demon resumed speaking, ‘It almost destroyed my career, it gave ammunition to my enemies, it made me do unspeakable selfless things for the Winchesters and their angel’, he made a derisive face at himself, ‘I saved their lives more than once or twice, and asked nothing in exchange. Can you believe it?’

Bobby’s hands found their way to Crowley’s neck in an intimate caress, ‘You have been allies, then?’

‘If you’re asking if they cared enough to help me through the worst, when I still couldn’t control myself, I can say they kind of staged an intervention, but just because they needed my help to find an artifact’, he made a face, ‘Most of the times we work together they betray me or just make clear I don’t belong’, he shrugged, trying to shake off a sadness that could be felt through the bond, anyway, ‘If you want to call what we are allies, well, it’s a word as good as any other’.

Bobby frowned, and he didn’t have to say idjits for it to be heard.

‘You can chastise them on my behalf when you have the opportunity’, Crowley suggested half-jokingly, ‘For my part, well, demon. I do my best, but sometimes I know it doesn’t qualify, feelings or not. I almost understand their suspicions, even if they hurt my, well, feelings’.

Bobby nodded.

His eyes travelled by the shorter man’s face, taking in what he had just been told.

Crowley licked his lips.

Their closeness was getting to him.

The fact Bobby was inspecting him with the fire of affection in his eyes didn’t help.

‘Let’s focus on the upside’, the demon spoke, trying to break the moment, ‘I’m not that lost in what is happening now because I’ve been dealing with emotions for a while. Most of them are not nice – sometimes I wonder how the average human manages not to kill him or herself when regret and sorrow decide it’s a good time to come out and play –, but at least I have some savoir-faire’.

Bobby leaned his head, ‘Crowley’.

‘Yes, love?’

‘I want you to know that I’m not happy that you may get dependent on me’. 

Crowley stared at Bobby adoringly, ‘I must consider myself lucky that it is you’.

The human scoffed.

‘It’s true. You have integrity and morals. I know you won’t ask me anything degrading. Besides watching for your boys, you’re probably not asking me much of anything’.

Crowley got closer.

The space between them was minimal.

‘I just need some time to adjust’, the demon’s lips brushed Bobby’s, ‘I have already accepted nothing else is going to feel like this’, he pressed his lips further, ‘I just hope you’ll have me when I come for my fix’.

‘That’s no way to live’, Bobby whispered and hugged Crowley tight.

The King of Hell’s voice trembled, ‘There’s no other way, love’.

‘Yes, there is’, Bobby answered, ‘You could kill me’.


	8. According to God's Holy Law

‘What?’, Crowley froze.

‘What I said’, Bobby parted from the demon to give him his earnest look, ‘This thing is great for me. I feel connected to you like I’ve never felt before, to anyone else – not even Karen. The bond takes away any misunderstandings and doubts. It helps me say things because I trust you. Because I feel what you feel’.

Crowley was taken aback at the phrasing.

He had used a very similar line with Dean.

All he had hoped for was that Squirrel, being a demon, would want to be the Knight who complemented the King.

Together they could conquer the world.

Now, staring in the caring eyes of the one and only Robert Singer made clear Crowley didn’t need an opposite who would be the other half of his plans, but someone who wanted a trusting partnership. 

He had started building that relationship slowly and hesitantly, years ago, and now that damned charming and sweet redneck was back and suddenly the demon was creating expectations of picking things up from where they were interrupted.

But it couldn’t be. 

Robert must be deluded by the magic bond. That was the only explanation for him to say and show openly he longed for Crowley to stay by his side.

What in blazes made him offer to be killed at the realization that the demon might consider their bond a handicap? Had he been winchestered, or the Hardy Boys learned from him to offer themselves in sacrifice for the ones they lov-

Crowley gulped down.

He shouldn’t be thinking in those terms.

The strong hands of the hunter were on his arms, keeping them in contact and conveying messages difficult to ignore, thanks to the bond.

Bobby wanted Crowley, and not in a possessive and self-centered way: he wanted him to be happy.   
The King of Hell wondered what his life would turn into if he agreed to eliminate that man from it.

He would be choosing to get back to the eternal suspicious and solitary life as a monarch of the damned, instead of basking in the warmth and safeness of Robert Singer’s companionship.

He would be choosing to send away his crush, infatuation and worst regret for years, after receiving him back miraculously. 

That was not the kind of thing that should ever be thrown away. Even a common demon knew how selfless affection was rare and precious; Crowley, having feelings, knew it even better. 

‘I know it’s not easy’, the hunter held his shoulders to call his attention, ‘But you must know…’, he pulled the demon closer to be able to shower his temple with kisses, ‘I’ll accept whatever you decide’.

Crowley closed his eyes under the tender touch.

‘If you think getting rid of me is for the best, just tell me. No need for backstabbing’, the kisses reached the side of the neck, ‘Just tell me it’s the best for you and I’ll let you do it’.

‘How can you say such things…’, Crowley moaned, ‘… with those lips doing magic?’

‘No one knows I’m back’, Bobby nipped at the neck while he reached out to undo the tie, ‘No one gets hurt if I’m gone again’.

‘Not true’, Crowley’s hands reached tentatively to the other man’s waist, surrendering to the sensations, ‘I know you’re back, Robert’.

‘And see how well it’s going for you’, the lips found an earlobe.

‘I’d say it’s going quite well…’

‘Because you’re an idjit’.

Their mouths clashed in a kiss.

It started furious and with some harsh pulling of Bobby’s hair and clothes from Crowley, who was showing his annoyance at the hunter suggesting they should put an end to that.

And then it turned into the already predictable intimate joining that soothed their souls.

When they parted, the demon was flushed, ‘I’m getting mixed signals, love’.

‘Yeah, I know’, Bobby admitted, ‘I say you should get rid of me and then I give you something to want me more’, he closed his eyes and leaned in again, ‘Can’t help myself’.

They resumed kissing leisurely.

Crowley’s hands had gone up Bobby’s back and were treading the hair on his nape, ‘As a hunter, and one who appreciates research, you should seize the opportunity’.

‘Of what?’ 

‘Of being able to tame the King of Hell with your lips’, Crowley sighed, ‘Just imagine the information you could extract from me’. 

‘The book said the bond provided health to the soul’, the human spoke lowly, obviously aroused at the touches and the voice, ‘My lips sooth you, your lips sooth me. This is not about getting info or using the other’, Bobby’s hands grabbed Crowley’s buttocks boldly and pulled him even closer, ‘Sometimes everybody wins’.

‘I love win-win situations’, Crowley purred happily, ‘And I love it that I can have it with you’.

‘Watch out, Princess’, Bobby was grinning, ‘You’re throwing around a very strong word, and now I know you mean it’.

‘What do you suggest, pet?’, the demon had a mischievous glint in his voice, smiling, too, ‘What can you do to help me deal with this pesky tendency to deliver inappropriate wordings?’

‘I just can think of dragging you to my bed, now’.

Crowley parted to look into Bobby’s eyes, ‘You mean your real bed or any flat surface?’

‘I mean my bed, idjit. I want to… go all the way in. I’m not even sure what it means, but I want it’.

The demon raised his brows, ‘You think having sex may help us figure out this conundrum?’

‘I can’t say it’s a plan’, Bobby was embarrassed, ‘It will even get us more attached, and I don’t know if you’re into it’.

‘I can’t quite imagine being more attached than what we already are, love’, Crowley smiled adoringly at Bobby, his hands running on the taller man’s chest enticingly, ‘But I surely am into it’.

‘Oh, balls’, Bobby moaned, ‘Let’s just do it’.

xxx

They arrived in Bobby’s room in a tangle of limbs and tumbling on the door gracelessly, with the hunter taking the lead to show the way and make sure they didn’t lose any time.

However, the moment they were inside, Bobby let go and went to the bed to sit on its edge and wait, leaving to the demon – the most experienced of them – the task to choose what would happen.

Crowley closed the door behind him carefully, in a gentlemanly gesture that extracted a grin from the hunter.

He approached the bed sporting a mischievous face while loosening his tie, and the elegance and confidence of the gestures made Bobby feel his own pupils dilating in arousal.

Knowing exactly the effect he was having on the other man, Crowley took the rest of his clothes slowly, providing a show that had Bobby opening his shirt and jeans as if it felt right to answer in kind.

When all their clothes were off, Crowley stood in front of Bobby, permitting him to see his whole naked body for the first time.

‘Like what you see, love?’

‘Yeah’, he extended a hand to pass his fingertips lightly on the shapes at his disposition, enjoying the muscles and textures of skin and hair.

The demon turned around, offering more to be touched and, being Bobby a very curious man by nature, tasted.

Crowley had been lost in the delicate exploration when he heard the other’s awed voice, ‘It’s like…’

‘…it doesn’t matter I’m a man?’, he suggested, ‘Or a demon?’ 

‘Neither’, Bobby planted a kiss on the small of the other’s back, then took a hold of his hips to turn him around, ‘It just matters that it’s you’, Bobby’s eyes found his, ‘The rest falls into place’.

The demon blushed, moved, and leaned in to peck the human’s lips, ‘Will you sit against the headboard and let me show you some basics on male to male loving?’

‘Now you’re the specialist in loving, demon?’, Bobby got up in front of the still leaning Crowley and threw him a smirk, ‘Don’t forget male to male is brand new to me. Be careful’.

The King of Hell was pleasantly surprised at the usually gruffy hunter being enthusiastic at the idea of being intimate with him, and his mouth was agape while he watched the human stay a bit longer than necessary with his member right before the demon’s face, and then move to do what had been suggested.

When Bobby settled himself, seemingly comfortable while exposing his hardness, Crowley felt his knees buckle.

He understood that the human, even if knowing he had control on the situation as a whole, had decided to let Crowley introduce him to intimacy, and that was a powerful act of generosity and humbleness.

The King crawled on the bed until he could touch the hunter’s lips with his, and straddled his lap without letting go of his mouth. 

Their tongues found a nice and slow pace.

‘You have no idea how I wanted this…’, the demon whispered, rubbing his middle against Bobby’s, ‘I was interested since we first met, but the deal made me obsessed with your soul’, he supported his hands on the other man’s shoulders, their foreheads touching, ‘It was so unique it overwhelmed me when I still didn’t have half the capacity to feel I have now’.

‘Then I’m back for a good reason’, Bobby caressed the other man’s face, ‘To meet you again when both of us are clever enough to act on this’, he made a playful face, ‘And show I’m not just a pretty soul’.

‘Absolutely, love’, Crowley smiled, ‘You are a complete package of awesomeness’.

They kissed again, the rubbing intensifying.

‘Show me how you like it’, Bobby said, eyes dark with desire, ‘No sense in keeping you waiting any longer, Princess’.

Crowley raised his hips, reached out with a surprisingly slick hand (perks of being a magic creature) for the penis behind him and moved to get it inside, slowly but unrelenting until it was all in.

Bobby grunted some nonsense against his chest.

The Demon King breathed deeply and then started grinding.

Slowly and unrelenting.

That was how Crowley liked it, and how he rarely had it, thanks to the façade of undisputed evilness he had to keep.

But not with Robert. With him he could have what his heart asked for.

With him he didn’t need to pretend he didn’t have a heart.

The demon provided the human with some helpful info, like how a certain angle hit the right places and how a specific pace could help them to last. He was not shy giving directions and was obviously enjoying explaining what was going on.

It was a practical lesson for Bobby, who was new to gay and interspecies sex; and for both of them, once controlling their arousals proved difficult, thanks to the bond intensifying every sensation. 

Unfortunately, even that incredible thing couldn’t last forever, and at some point, Bobby grabbed Crowley’s hips and quickened the pace, taking them over the edge.

The afterwards had plenty of sweet kisses and shameless cuddling, as it seemed to be what both enjoyed when satiated. 

‘I can’t believe we keep coming together’, Bobby chuckled, ‘It’s like best friends who have their PMS synchronized’.

‘Really, Robert?’, Crowley had his eyes closed, no real annoyance in his voice, his meatsuit relaxed and lying on his partner’s, ‘That’s what you have to say?’

‘Don’t have to say anything meaningful, Princess. The bond does it for me’.

‘Well, you can count on me still talking a lot’, Crowley sighed, ‘That was wonderful’.

‘Yes, it was’, the human patted the demon’s ass, ‘And you can talk as much as you want. I like when you open up to me’.

‘Do I hear innuendo?’, Crowley jiggled his hips, ‘Ready for a second go so fast, love?’

‘Not what I meant’, Bobby laughed at the other’s hips moving again at a new playful slap, ‘But I’m younger than I should be. We could go again in a few minutes’.

When Bobby mentioned he was younger he kissed Crowley’s receding hairline, and the King was not amused, ‘I can’t believe you’re showing off’. 

‘You’re the Demon King. I have to praise myself for whatever I can’.

‘You have a lot to praise about yourself, darling’, Crowley purred, ‘Besides, the balance of power in this relationship has changed from what we were used to’.

Bobby got serious, ‘Speaking of that…’

‘Don’t even go there, Robert. I’m not killing you’.

‘Just to make things clear: I didn’t ask you to do it. I just said I would understand if this thing bothered you so much you decided to take the only way out’.

Crowley hugged him tighter, ‘I’d rather risk my free will than not having you anymore’.

‘I’m human, Crowley. One day, a lot earlier than we would have wanted, you’re going to lose me to Death, and this time for real. Maybe the thing to do is stop before we reach a point where it hurts you too much’.

‘Then I would have to time travel and never approach you for that deal’.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I already wanted you then’.

‘It was different’, Bobby contradicted, ‘We didn’t have time or opportunity’.

‘As if’, Crowley’s voice lowered, ‘It would never happen’.

‘You just said you wanted me’.

‘But you didn-’

Crowley interrupted himself.

He felt the answer through the bond.

The demon straightened to face the hunter, plain shock written on his face.

The human started explaining himself, ‘I’m not worried that the bond is controlling me in anyway because I was already having some nasty thoughts about you, before this counter-spell thing. I don’t remember the last years. To me it’s like yesterday that I was starting to wonder if I was crazy wanting you to visit more and be closer’, Bobby ran a hand on Crowley’s neck, ‘What worries me is what this may be doing to you. I don’t want to get advantage of my taken’.

‘Don’t need to worry about that, love’, Crowley hurried to answer, ‘I’ve been raped, and I can tell you what we have has nothing to do with it, bond or no bond’.

‘Jesus’, Bobby frowned, ‘You speak of addiction and rape as routine business’.

‘I’m a demon’, Crowley shrugged, ‘We’re not exactly adjusted beings, by human morality’.

‘Well, if I have a saying in it – and I know I have –, I’ll turn you into a little ball of happy monster’, Bobby smirked, ‘It includes protecting your delicate ass from anything you don’t want in it’, he made a face, ‘Sorry. It sounded better in my head’.

Crowley chuckled, ‘That was a beautiful phrasing, Robert’.

‘Don’t you dare mocking me’.

‘I’m not mocking’, Crowley spoke honestly, ‘It takes a lot of sensibility to understand and much more honesty to say out loud that you know I may want certain things in my delicate ass’, he sighed lovingly, ‘You are my Prince’.

Bobby scoffed, but accepted a grateful kiss.

‘Tell me’, the hunter asked when they settled on the mattress, this time with him laying on his back and Crowley spooning his side, one arm possessively thrown over his waist, as the demon seemed to enjoy, ‘Have you find out what happened to me and who did the spell on you?’ 

‘Both questions have basically the same answer, love’.

‘And that is?’

‘Have you seen the news on the strange phenomena of the last weeks?’

‘Weaker sun and all that unexplained jazz?’

‘Those’.

‘Yeah. Wondered it could be related to our situation’.

‘Brilliant, as always’, Crowley took one of Bobby’s hands to kiss it, ‘Some very entertaining things happened while you were away. You may consider them somewhat unacceptable and, once I’m as involved in them as your boys, I trust you’ll hear my version, one of these days, instead of just theirs’.

‘You have my promise’, Bobby nodded seriously, ‘Give me just the essentials, now’.

‘Thank you’, Crowley licked his lips, chose the words and spoke, ‘The Darkness is an ancient entity – the sister of God, in fact – who had been imprisoned since the dawn of time, such her opposition to her brother’s creation. She was released into the world and in one of her tantrums she hurt God so much that the sun, which is the source of life on Earth, was dying with him’.

‘Did you and the boys meet God?’, at Crowley’s nod, Bobby frowned, ‘Do you think I did it, too, in Heaven?’

‘He didn’t go back, love. Heaven is filled just with angels, as much as I know’.

‘All right. I’ll ask the boys about that. Go on’.

The demon smiled fondly at Bobby being so focused on his tale, ‘Many creatures joined forces against Amara – that’s her name – and nothing worked. As a last resort, Dean went to a meeting with her carrying a soul-bomb inside him. They had a special relationship, for reasons I hope I’m present when he decides to tell you, and, in a surprisingly clever move, Squirrel decided to talk to her instead of just exploding the bomb on her face’.

Crowley went silent for some moments, and Bobby waited respectfully.

‘I don’t know what he said to her, but he succeeded, and she disappeared with God to what I suppose was a saccharine family reunion’, he pursed his lips, ‘Before going away, Amara decided to gift the creatures who had been closer to her in some way, and the chosen ones were Dean and myself’.

Now Bobby sat on the bed, ‘I’m a gift?’

‘Amara appeared to me and said she was going to give me what I needed most’, Crowley explained, ‘And next thing I knew, I was locked inside my own head, feeling abandoned and desperate’, he stared at Bobby, ‘The process of cure was like slowly crumbling walls that kept me apart from a source of light and warmth that I knew but thought I had no chance of finding again’.

‘Was it my soul, then?’, Bobby whispered, ‘What you needed most was my soul?’

‘If it was just your soul, I think she wouldn’t have restored you with a yummy body nor given your house back’, Crowley pondered, ‘I have reached the conclusion that she decided what I needed most was a deep connection with your complete person’.

‘So, she chose a curse that required the creation of a bond to be undone, rebuilt my house, planted here a book with the answers I needed and threw you at my door with a note in your pocket, so I could take care of you and set things right between us?’

‘You’re the cleverest of all, Robert’, Crowley grinned, pecking Bobby’s lips, ‘And I guess she even made you younger to give us more time’.

The hunter raised his brows, ‘You must have made quite an impression on the girl’.

‘I tried’, Crowley shrugged, ‘That’s a long story that I promise to tell you another time’.

Bobby nodded, then a doubt occurred to him, ‘What did she give Dean?’

‘His mother’.

‘What?!’

‘Mary Winchester, with the age she would have if she had not been consumed by fire, is currently living with the boys in their bunker. Well, not currently living, because that woman doesn’t settle easily, but you get the general idea’.

Bobby had a hand on his forehead, still dealing with the information, ‘Bunker?’

Crowley made a face, ‘Sorry, love. Forgot you didn’t know about that’.

‘Is it a bad thing? Or I can rest a bit before you tell me things from the start?’

‘It’s not bad at all. It’s a big subterranean base with all the comforts. They found out they were the last heirs of a secret society- …’, he saw the confusion in Bobby’s face and patted his chest, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll love the place. It’s safe, has a huge collection of artifacts and lore. You’ll have the time of your life, there’.

Bobby nodded, pacified, ‘You go there often?’

‘I stayed in their dungeon for some unpleasant time’, the demon had a sudden inspiration, his whole mood perking, ‘I’ll make sure to be with you, when you visit there. Can’t wait to make new memories in that place’.

Bobby smirked, realizing the demon was already thinking of uses for the dungeon, ‘Everything for the health of your soul, love’.

Crowley paled, ‘What did you say?’

‘I called you love’, the human turned to the demon, pulling him close, ‘Get used to endearment. What we have is different from any other relationship I ever had, I just gained a new chance of living because of you and I’m making the best of it’, he rubbed against the other, showing off his hardening erection, ‘Let’s not waste any time. What’s next lesson?’

‘Uhm, Robert’, the King of Hell’s hands started pulling the hunter, wishing to be under him, ‘I’m sure you’re ready to learn how to lead the way, now’.

‘Yeah’, Bobby settled between the demon’s thighs and grabbed his legs to lift them, ‘I may be leading, but never forget all I have in mind is your happiness, Princess’.

Crowley looked for a sassy answer, but Bobby started exploring him with a finger and all he could say was Bollocks and surrender.

The rich sound of the human’s laugh filled the room and went directly to his obviously existing and soon-to-be healthy soul.


	9. And this is my solemn vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, and the last chapter’s title is the last line of the traditional wedding vows! ;D  
> Thank you to every one who has read this.

‘Are you sure it’s not a problem, Bobby?’, Sam asked with his gentlest voice.

‘Not at all, boy’, the older hunter picked his phone – the one with the number just a few chosen ones had.

‘Don’t want to ask anything that is off-limits’.

‘You never really know when something is going to set his alarms off’, Bobby gave a knowing smile, ‘Better take a chance and prevent a crisis than deal with the fire and brimstone afterwards’.

‘Oh, well, about it…’

Bobby stopped just before dialing, ‘What?’

Sam made the puppy eyes, ‘We kind of already have a crisis’.

‘Let me guess’, Bobby sighed, ‘Dean went to talk to him?’

‘Yeah’, Sam, embarrassed, managed to look somewhat smaller than he really was, ‘I told him to wait, but you know Dean. He didn’t think we should involve you and tried to settle things by himself’, he made his bitch face, ‘This morning he left a message outside his bedroom door warning me to not say I told you’, he shrugged, ‘Things didn’t go as planned’.

‘Idjit’, Bobby growled, but there was no real annoyance in his reaction.

Not many things could exasperate him, these days.

And Dean was just trying to preserve him. The older brother kept saying he would do anything to prevent them from losing Bobby again, and sometimes the bulkhead decided the best way to do it was leaving Bobby completely out of very relevant loops. 

Taking a decision, he pressed the call button on his phone and waited for the answer on the other side of the line, ‘Let’s find out the extent of our problem before we fuss over it like some freaked out chicken’.

Sam nodded and, when Bobby looked away, smiled in relief and gratitude. 

No problem was just Winchester, anymore, since their surrogate father was back.

Dean was right being protective. It felt good to have someone to rely on and support them when- 

‘Hello, love’.

Bobby raised his eyes. 

Sam turned, startled, once the King of Hell had appeared behind him with a box of chocolates in one hand and a bottle of some expensive wine in the other.

His joyful mood, surely related to the fact Bobby had called him and he had managed to come immediately, fell the moment he saw the giant presence between him and his hunter.

The demon gestured for the gifts in his hands, ‘Didn’t expect company’, he frowned, ‘May not have enough for a moose’.

The Winchester pressed his lips to not laugh.

Crowley squinted, ‘What’s the face about? Never saw a demon trying to woo his favorite human?’

Sam smirked, ‘Well, I…’, he cut himself off when he saw Bobby was passing by and had stopped to glare at him, then schooled his features to be respectful, ‘I agree it was unexpected’, the glare from the older hunter turned into a roll of eyes, and Sam relaxed and stage whispered, ‘But definitively cute’.

The demon grinned happily, as it always happened when Sam or Dean teased him and Bobby about their relationship.

It was the brothers’ way of showing they accepted it, and that mattered a lot to him.

Bobby approached Crowley, offering to take the chocolates and the wine, ‘Couldn’t you just pick your damned phone instead of poofing here without a clue of what is happening?’

To Sam’s amusement, a battle of wills was promptly stablished: the demon put both items behind his back and puckered his lips, as if a kiss was the price to pay for the goods he had brought.

The hunter fussed with his cap for a moment, then caved in and leaned to peck the lips.

Before Crowley knew what was happening, Bobby had reached for his wrists and then hands, taking the gifts easily.

‘Hey’, the King of Hell protested, ‘I didn’t say you could get those’.

Bobby grinned smugly at the demon, ‘Not my problem, shorty’.

Sam noticed the gleam of affection in Crowley’s eyes.

(He enjoyed being outwitted by Bobby.)

And he saw Bobby drop the teasing, smile fondly and lean forward again, this time for a softer and longer kiss. 

Then, remembering they were not alone, the older hunter parted from the demon and walked to the kitchen, ‘Answer my question’.

‘I do have a clue on what’s happening, thanks to your other son – the less civilized one’, Crowley composed himself, still a bit flustered by what had just transpired between them, ‘Besides, I felt you wanted to see me and that was already enough reason to come, wasn’t it?’

Bobby grunted something that sounded like agreement, and Crowley made a knowing face at Sam.

The demon stood at the double doors of the kitchen, staring while the owner of the house deposited the items on the table and went to the fridge.

Sam observed in fascination the smitten expression on Crowley’s face.

The Winchester knew about the counter-spell, the bond and what it did to both Bobby and Crowley; however, sometimes he wondered how strong it had to be for them to simply come to the bunker together, tell him and Dean what had happened and how they wanted things to be from then on, as if a monogamous relationship between a hunter who was thought deceased and the King of Hell was the most natural thing ever.

(Well, Amara had brought back their mother. Nothing should be considered impossible, at that point.)

Bobby kept living in his old house and resumed his life as if nothing had happened. Some hunters didn’t believe it was him at first, but when they had to ask for help and again they had Bobby Singer to consult and give quick and correct answers, they accepted him back in the game fully.

(Crowley had been right when he said Bobby would enjoy the bunker, by the way: he often travelled there to visit the boys and spend days delighting in research and cataloguing – being more of a Man of Letters than any of them could ever be.)

Crowley maintained his position as King of Hell as best as he could, with Lucifer again menacing his position, the loyalists always plotting and demons in general being stupid and not minding the rules he stablished – specially the Crossroads, what annoyed him to no end, being that his original rank and the one he considered the most important to conquer valuable and numerous souls to Hell.

Bobby got used to rantings and eventual explosions of fury, when things got too annoying down there, once Crowley just trusted him to vent on his frustrations on kingship.

Fortunately, it was enough that Bobby threw some truths Crowley’s way to shake some sense in him.

In the few situations in which rationality didn’t work, some fierce hugs and deep kisses did the trick.

(The caretaker just used the bond as a last resort.)

Bobby, being younger than he was when he found his demise, joined the Winchesters in some huntings that were not considered too dangerous – a concept he considered stupid, once you never really know when a foolish job will turn into tragedy – and the three of them often found out a well-trained hellhound or even the King himself had been in the backstage, ready to lend a paw or a hand if necessary.

Sometimes the demonic help happened for Sam and Dean even when Bobby was not with them, what showed Crowley kept tracks on the boys without Bobby asking for it or being part of what they were doing. It was obvious the demon cared for Moose and Squirrel, and his affection for them was not necessarily related to his bond to Bobby. The bond just gave him more emotional gratification when things worked out.

Everybody among hunters, demons, angels, monsters and deities in general knew there was something between the hunter who had suddenly risen from the dead after the Darkness left with God and the crossroads demon who made himself King of Hell, but no one could tell exactly what it was, and any speculations voiced to them were met with discouraging glares.

To any outsiders, Bobby spoke of Crowley as a necessary evil – a helpful source of information and a powerful ally, even if a pompous dickbag.

To his minions, allies and enemies, Crowley spoke of Bobby as a necessary annoyance – a useful human with a quick mind and, for a redneck, a surprising level of common sense.

When they were by themselves or in the presence of what they could call their nuclear family – Sam, Dean, Castiel, Jody and Rowena –, they would let show the fondness for each other and those comments turned into the praises they really were. 

Sam could not deny he and his brother had been baffled when they were told about Amara’s gift to Uncle Crowley. He and Dean needed some time to trust the demon, not quite sure that his devotion for Bobby was real and, in case it was, if it meant they would get any free passes. 

Soon it was clear the devotion was not just real, but ran deep. Crowley would look at Bobby with such an adoring face it would be ridiculous if it was not so sincere.

And, as a consequence, Crowley’s generous gestures towards them were not motivated by his own need for acceptance, anymore, but for a wish to be part of what made Bobby happy.

Besides, the brothers were more than glad to have Bobby back, Sam was a sucker for love stories and, well, who were them to judge a romance between a hunter and a demon, when they were hunters, one of them had been with a demon for a year and the other had been a demon himself for months? 

‘I felt your longing. How would I know the Sasquatch was here with you?’, Crowley resumed talking, turning to throw a look at Sam, ‘Unless you decided to open our relationship to close relatives’, he looked at Bobby again, ‘Be aware that I’m not bringing my mother in’.

‘For God’s sake’, Bobby closed the fridge and threw a beer to Sam, ‘Have some decency’.

‘Why? She is always saying how proud she is I managed to land such a stud as yourself’, he smirked at the reddening on Bobby’s cheeks, once Rowena really said that more than once, ‘Besides, Moose is friends with the witch’.

Sam raised a hand, ‘Let’s say we’re tentatively building something’.

‘Oh, that’s always like this’, Crowley rolled his eyes and supported himself on the doorframe, hands on his pockets, ‘You keep trying to deny the evidences that Winchesters – and, by proxy, Singers – and McLeods are a match made in… well…’

‘In the Darkness?’, the younger man suggested with a smirk.

‘You can say that, Sam’, Crowley smiled.

And that was it: some inner jokes exchanged and the King of Hell, who that Winchester himself had tried to kill more than once, was calling him by the name and being not just civil, but affectionate.

Bobby had approached and was following the conversation attentively.

The fondness in his face was so obvious it made Sam think, again, that Amara had proved she could be as resourceful as her brother: she had given Crowley exactly what he needed most – a loving partner who came with an extended group of humans for him to protect and care for – and, as a side effect, had linked all of them in a cohesive and trustful group, giving Bobby the family he never managed to build, given the circumstances of his life.

It still saddened Sam that the return of Mary just reinforced that she didn’t belong to their new small family: she stayed with him and Dean in the bunker for not much time and felt the need to have a life by herself; she joined forces with the British Men of Letters behind their back and, if it was not for Crowley’s influence, something drastic could have happened. 

It took a straight talk from Bobby for the brothers to realize you can’t expect someone who died so young to behave as the experienced mom they wanted.

In Crowley’s words, Mary was not matriarch material.

That was how Jody stepped up as the mother figure in their group.

She was so close to them that Crowley saw himself having to ask for her forgiveness about that time when he almost killed her to blackmail the boys. It would be ridiculous to meet with her to discuss things so often and pretend he had never done anything.

The confrontation happened in her house: they stopped by (Bobby, Crowley and the boys) for a visit and, out of nowhere, the demon cleared his throat, asked her attention and made the evident effort to say he couldn’t regret it then, but now wished he haven’t messed with her like he did, being her such a competent Alfa female. 

Jody asked Bobby if the apologies were sincere – once she knew the bond prevented Crowley to hide anything from his partner – and, before Bobby could answer, the demon gave up appearances and ranted on how impossible it was not to be jealous of a human who was as clever and perceptive and impressive as her.

The sheriff stayed silent, big eyes staring at the King of Hell while he poured out his annoyance at her undeniable qualities in some old-fashioned British words.

There was a tense silence when he stopped talking. 

The woman still looked at the demon for long moments.

Then, she ordered everyone but Crowley out of the room.

No one ever found out what they talked about, but since then they were best buddies.

Sam decided to get out of the memory lane and back to business, ‘Crowley, we need your help’.

‘Who is we? The Winchester Wonders?’, he turned to Bobby, ‘Are you involved in this?’, he scoffed, ‘What am I asking. Of course you’re involved if it’s about your boys’.

‘Let’s get comfortable to discuss it’, Bobby approached and rested a hand on Crowley’s arm, ‘If you make a joke about getting our clothes off to get comfortable I swear I’ll get my rifle’.

‘The one you use to tickle me or the one with rock salt?’

‘What do you think, Princess?’

‘What I think is too impure for the kid’s ears’.

Bobby blushed again, ‘Then stop projecting it’.

‘You’re not the kid in the room, love. I don’t need to preserve you’.

‘Are you really trying to annoy your gift, demon?’

‘Don’t need to annoy yo-’

‘Guys?’

Both seemed, again, to remember there was someone else in the room and stopped their games for the time being, muttering apologies and sitting on Bobby’s sofa.

(New sofa, by the way. Bobby’s living room currently had more comfortable places to sit, thanks to the King of Hell often visiting the house and being a fan of every comfort money could buy.)

‘So’, Sam resumed as soon as the partners stopped fussing about how close they would sit in the sofa, with Crowley accepting touching the sides of their thighs would be it, by now, ‘You think you can help us?’

‘Not sure I can’.

Sam frowned, irritated, ‘Not sure you can or not sure you will?’

‘Both’.

‘No need for that, boy’, Bobby made a pacifying gesture when he saw Sam’s angry face and clenched fists, ‘He must have a good reason. Let’s hear him out before we decide he deserves to be hit’.

The demon smirked and opened his mouth.

Bobby felt through the bond he was ready to say something on didn’t minding to be slapped and threw him a warning glance.

‘Oh, all right’, Crowley sighed and went back to business, ‘You should understand better than anyone else what means to a human who has met Lucifer, let’s say, intimately, to be asked to be bait’, he clenched his jaw before going on, ‘I don’t think it’s fair to ask it from my mother’.

‘It’s more magic support than bait what we need’, Sam calmed down, ‘But I understand how hard it must be to her. That is why I was counting on you to convince her it can be done safely if we work together’, he leaned forward in enthusiasm, ‘Cas is in, too’.

Crowley rolled his eyes, as he always did when someone spoke of Castiel as if he was the solution to all problems, ‘I don’t think I should intervene, as I have already told your brother’.

‘But-’

‘It’s his mother’, Bobby cut Sam off, putting a hand on Crowley’s knee, ‘Would you ask Mary to get any close to Yellow Eyes?’

Crowley looked away, obviously bothered.

‘She tried to fight him and didn’t manage, but it was written and had been planned by demons for millennia’, Sam tilted his head, ‘It’s different from us ambushing Lucifer. It’s an unexpected move’.

‘There goes Team Free Will and their moronic changing destiny plots that usually screw the whole world’, Crowley spit the words out with a venom rarely seen nowadays.

‘Hey’, Bobby turned to his partner, feeling that his inner turmoil was getting out of hand.

‘I guess I understand you want to protect Rowena’, Sam said, shrugging, ‘You have some bad history with her, but Bobby is right: she is your mother’.

Both bearded men looked at younger Winchester at the same time and with the same suspicious eyes, showing they had realized together he had changed his tactics and was trying to convince Crowley to help through his confused feelings for Rowena.

The dirty look Bobby threw him was enough for Sam to repent.

However, before he could say anything else, Crowley spoke, ‘I don’t want to protect that witch because of some overrated blood relation – we haven’t even been sharing the same blood for centuries’, he tensed, ‘But she came to be an essential element to some of my decisions regarding Hell, thanks to my new… traits’.

Sam was genuinely curious, ‘How is that?’

‘Given Robert’s awful good influence over me, her evil tendencies are saving my face in front of the more suspicious among the demons’, he clenched his jaw, ‘I need her as a reference of cold heartedness’.

Bobby stared pointedly at Crowley’s face, and the demon tried not to look back.

It meant they were sharing something through the bond, and Sam waited.

Still not used to deal with the intensity of some things, Crowley gave up and looked back, annoyed, ‘Just say it, Robert. Let’s not keep secrets from the children’.

Bobby shrugged, ‘Just think you’re in denial’.

The demon sat straighter on the sofa, ready to contradict.

‘I can feel it from here’, Sam hurried to support Bobby, ‘We may have to discuss your feelings for your mother before we go forward’.

‘I feel outnumbered’, Crowley opened his arms in protest, ‘Why do I have to deal with the hippies by myself?’

‘Call your cold heartened mother, if you want back up’, Bobby teased.

‘I was thinking in terms of calling your eldest’, Crowley volleyed back, ‘I wonder what he will say when I tell him you two called me for a reunion behind his back’.

The three of them squinted among themselves.

‘All right’, Bobby offered, breaking the tension, ‘The six of us here tonight, then? I’ll provide dinner’.

The other two nodded, knowing the fifth element was Rowena herself, and the sixth, Castiel.

‘What about Jody?’, Crowley suggested, ‘She lives close and has a lot more sense than any of you, regular humans’.

‘Sounds good’, Bobby smiled.

Sam got up, ‘I’ll call the daredevils’.

‘Thanks’, Bobby answered, and the younger man exited the house with his phone.

The couple in the sofa stayed quiet for some moments, in a silence filled with tentative reachings through the bond.

At some point Bobby rested his arm on Crowley’s shoulder, ‘Your turn to get it off your chest’.

‘I can admit I need her’, Crowley spoke in a strangled voice, ‘I just can’t deal with it, yet’, he cleared his throat, ‘I hate these feelings’, he breathed deeply, trying to calm down.

‘Well, sorry for making you a healthy soul again’, Bobby messed with his cap, what was his equivalent of pouting.

‘I’m not complaining about you, love’, Crowley relaxed his back against Bobby’s arm and took his free hand to keep it on his lap, ‘I just wish my judgement wasn’t so clouded when she is regarded. I know she has changed, but I shouldn’t feel so dependent on her – and worse, I shouldn’t like it’.

‘You’ve been waiting to have your mother being a real mother for more than three hundred years’, Bobby pulled him closer, ‘It’s hard not to get a bit too much into it’.

‘Do you think I love her?’, the bond was filled with fear, ‘I don’t want to love her’.

Bobby smiled softly, ‘I’m not sure you can choose these things’.

‘She chose not to love me. She told me that when she couldn’t lie’, Crowley blinked sudden tears that were panic, angriness and a deep settled something the hunter couldn’t name but recognized in himself when he remembered his own father, ‘There is nothing loveable about her. It should not be so difficult’.

‘Yeah, it shouldn’t, but emotions are not logical, you thick-headed businessman’, Bobby sighed, caressing the hand holding his, ‘You now know loving is not necessarily a bad thing, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do, but it’s different’, Crowley looked into Bobby’s eyes, ‘I could always trust you, even before the bond, because you had integrity. You didn’t catch my eye just for your looks, Singer – you have that beautiful soul of yours that shone upon me and made me happy even when I didn’t really believe I deserved that’.

‘Why’, Bobby blinked in surprise, ‘That was beautiful’.

Crowley huffed, ‘Yes, and I don’t mind saying it because I don’t mind loving you’, he got agitated again, ‘I don’t mind caring for Moose and Squirrel, either, because they are worthy my effort. Castiel is a moron, but he is an angel – being acceptable company is already a lot to ask from him’, he went on heatedly, ‘Sheriff Mills has her heart and her head in the right places as few humans do besides you’, he tensed again, ‘But my mother…’

Crowley shook his head and didn’t complete his thoughts.

There was no need, given what the bond could say.

‘It’s not easy when your family of blood gets it all wrong from the start’, Bobby spoke lowly, ‘It’s hard to fix it’.

Crowley felt the emotions of his partner through the bond.

He knew about Bobby and his parents – had found out when he had his soul in Hell and could see his memories.

And now he regretted bringing up the topic, ‘I’m sorry, love. Not a good subject. I’ll deal with it by myself’.

‘No way. That’s not how things work’.

‘I’m still a demon’, Crowley scrunched his nose and struggled as if trying to disentangle from Bobby’s arms, ‘I’m the bloody King of Hell, in fact. Can perfectly take care of any pesky-’

He was interrupted by Bobby’s mouth on his.

Sam was pushing the door when he heard a commotion and peeked inside before making his return known.

He saw the flailing arms of the clad-in-black man, who was trying to protest against the hunter currently pressing him down on the sofa while kissing him.

The struggle didn’t last much – soon the demon stopped fussing, opened his legs to receive Bobby between them and his arms sneaked on the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

Sam heard Bobby saying something about Rowena wanting the devil caged as much as them, that she would have the chance to decide by herself on being a part of the plan or not, and telling Crowley to promise he would not worry too much on whatever was going on with his feelings for her.

When he heard a moaned I promise, love as response, Sam retreated, closing the door silently behind him.

It was not the first time he witnessed Bobby soothing Crowley and being soothed at his own ability to make his partner happy.

He hoped he still saw it many times.

Taking a decision, Sam sent a message to Bobby’s phone, saying he would pay a visit to Jody and come later with her, Dean, Cas and Rowena.

xxx

The youngest Winchester knew he had taken the right decision when he arrived that night with the rest of the group and found a content Bobby cooking while sharing some wine with a very relaxed Crowley in the kitchen.

The King of Hell was clad just in his black trousers and black shirt, top buttons undone, no shoes and feet on a chair.

Not something you would see in an ordinary day, but happened when he was specially happy, like in that night – after an afternoon of privacy with Bobby and the expectation of an evening in the company of people he cared deeply for, denial or not.

The demon greeted the small group with a big grin, but then he looked at Sam as if he was his hero.

Well, family didn’t start with blood, and it doesn’t have to end with it, either.

They seemed to have found theirs, and it was worth everything they went through.

The End


End file.
